Oculus
by Vergil's Inferno
Summary: The depths of the Underworld are seldom used for good; as Dante takes his seat on the throne, he is forced to teach his brother a lesson. What will Vergil learn this time? Disclaimer: I don't own characters, I own the story; I'm so sick of having to consciously admit it.
1. The one that could change everything

Gloom was too happy a word to describe the feeling that wafted in the air, mingling with the usual weight of indecisiveness and depression that took residence in Limbo; this in-between realm that served as the waiting room for the recently deceased was reaching capacity quicker than normal, forcing the day shift to cut the routine questionings in half and making the decision best suited for each candidate that approached their respective desks. The weather was slightly warmer than expected and the line stretched as far as their eyes could see, so a lunch break was off the cards.

Unfortunately for them, they all enjoyed what they did; one worker in particular by the name of Ayvorus had the most difficult task sitting in front of him. The other employees seemed to be flying through their souls to sort through; Ayvorus was the most human of the bunch and he specialised in reading visual cues and seeing what other workers couldn't. He prided himself in being a valuable affect to the team, but this was a true test – sitting across his desk was the cleanest sheet he had ever seen: no criminal record, no previous life offences, nothing – a normal life that seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or taken by the unfortunate events of under-appreciation.

"I trust you know I have to take your best interests to heart and persuade you to want to go the other way."

His new client sat motionless but stared at the top of Ayvorus' desk, looking at nothing in particular. "I do."

"But something tells me there's nothing I can say to make you change your mind."

"There isn't." He gave a feint yet genuine smile; his voice wasn't demanding as such, but resolute.

The person across from him was honestly intriguing, but he couldn't dwell on it too much. "Because of this abnormal request I have to inform the man in charge." Ayvorus stamped his papers the way it wasn't intended, but they had never had an unhappy camper for millennia and he had no plans to change that. What a waste it would be for him to wither away on the damned opposite side of the spectrum.

The client heard the shuffling papers, counting the final stamps he needed for residence and stood, slinging his trusty backpack over his shoulder. "What's he like?"

Ayvorus stuck his folder out to him, carefully placing them in his outstretched hands. "Well, he's not like the last one, I can tell you that. He's really great from what I've heard; doesn't suit the throne because his personality is the total opposite from the usual requirement, but he's powerful and very much in control of the domain. He's easier on the eyes which is always a plus." Ayvorus gave his client a sideways glance as he nodded along with his words, keeping his eyes on the folder. "That brother of his is another story. Try to stay as far away from him as you can – masses like him only spell out trouble for the rest of the lot."

"Why do you say that?" His ears perked up, now interested in the peculiar direction the conversation had shifted. "He's already dead. What mayhem could a corpse carry out in a domain of dead just like him?"

"You'd be surprised, dear boy. He isn't like any of them."

The worker let the statement hang between them with no true intention, only that there was nothing else to say about the man. They may share the same bloodline but they were miles apart in every aspect. He stayed in his seat as his client got out of his chair, calculating the chances that the poor boy would cross shoulders with the monster. "I do appreciate your help, thank you. I thought you'd have me work for this."

Ayvorus shrugged. "We can't say no to requests – just the ridiculous ones."

His client let out a chuckle. "And this doesn't qualify?"

"I'm sure you have your reasons. Not my job to butt in." The clerk stood from his chair and led the way to the correct gate, using his authorisation card and fingerprints to activate the swirling blood pool that was the entrance to Hell. Thankfully, the entire process made enough noise for the newest addition to map out exactly where he needed to go. "As per protocol, can I get you anything to aid you on your journey? Guns? Cake? Common sense?"

Ayvorus watched him throw his head back in laughter and cover his face with the manila. After letting his arm fall to the side, the employee noted the great smile he had that would waste inside the boiling confines of non-productivity. "Some hair dye might be nice. New start and all."

He kept his hand on the activation pad while his other conjured his client's request, handing it to him and asking him to step forward into the gate. For the first time that day, his client sent a smile and nod to the employee's direction before stepping through, a small pop signalling a successful entry.

Ayvorus spoke to no one in particular. "I would have gone with the cake."


	2. It's come to this, has it?

They had been through this too many times for any of it to be taken seriously. Day by day, the same thing happened over and over again, and the creatures involved would endure all they needed to ensure that justice prevailed. The term justice was used loosely within the fiery confines of Hell's walls, but the new person in charge managed to change the overarching perception of punishment and consequence in the small duration of his rule. He had adopted a different angle in his approach improving from his father in every way; the souls he ruled over no longer feared him as a leader but respected him for his calm demeanour and just attitude toward the myriad of convoluted affairs he dealt with on a daily basis.

Although most of his undertakings had been taken care of, one such exception was his brother; the epitome of suiting their surroundings better than the current monarch. Cold, ruthless evil standing at six foot two, snow-white glistening hair effortlessly slicked back, humanly-unattainable broad shoulders, aerodynamically muscled build and usually a bright glowing turquoise from the amount of demon blood he was drenched in, he stood tall to await his pending trail. No being could do much to wipe the smug look on his face and it was evident that most had already given up: he had left all these years to the chance that his brother would take pity on him and lessen all the routine punishments dealt to those in the wrong, but even those proved no match to the cockiness and wit of the man in blue, searching for methods to make them more brutal than their intended purpose. He had to do something. Something bad; something that would scare him into never wanting to return to the mindset he presently had. Everyone knew it too, and the sole idea was the step their leader would take to eradicate – or at least hinder – the actions by the demon standing in front of him. The enormous room was silent; he needed to think outside of the box for something to rupture his brother's core so devastatingly vile that he himself might be ashamed at making his own flesh and blood endure it.

He watched him cautiously a few steps away, trying to gauge any form of reaction from his elder but knowing he would be disappointed with the icy look of death in the pair of eyes he had been forced to look at since he sat on the throne; he had assumed things would be much easier having his best friend by his side or going in knowing one damned soul similar to his, but the degree to which his destructive influence had hovered over the infernal community was astonishing.

Dante was heartbroken. He was too trusting in thinking he could change.

He stood, exhausted from overthinking, and lazily dragged his feet across the room to meet his brother. "When is this going to end, Vergil?"

He stared at him blankly, his face devoid of acknowledging Dante; the heavy titanium chains that bound him owned more character and feeling. "I don't think I know what you're talking about-"

"I've asked you a simple question, and now I want an answer." They were inches from one another, testing their patience. Vergil despised anything invading his personal space – a fact Dante knew and would use to his advantage as much as possible. Being in this proximity shut down his normal thinking process and switched his mind to attack mode, something that couldn't easily be done given where he was and who he was dealing with; harming Dante was a suicide note he wasn't ready to sign yet. It wouldn't stop him, but he knew that was the dumbest thing he could do.

Evil incarnate smiled back. Intimidation was lost on Vergil, even from the person who currently ruled over the domain he was destroying. "There won't be one, brother."

"Is that so?" They were evenly matched, identical in every way, and yet their personalities couldn't be more different. Being the only pure hybrids in existence, there was an exact ratio of human and demon between them and it was obvious which side they each took a particular liking to. The corner of Dante's mouth lifted a notch, making him look obscenely harmless. Demented almost, like a character out of a sick, twisted fantasy novel.

Vergil closed the gap between them as his smile faded, glaring into the same intense eyes as his own. "And while you're refining your tough guy façade, make it more believable – I can practically taste the fear radiating from you."

Something sinister gleamed in the younger brother's eyes that made Vergil proud. Deep in his stomach, he felt a very familiar and unwelcomed tingling, one whose sensations brought with it an untold feeling that he had only ever felt once before. Without prior warning, Dante eyes burned a pitiful shade of red as he leaned in and whispered into his ear, solidifying the feel of delightful trepidation inside him. "I've never been afraid of you, Vergil, and I never will be." A scorching hand moved up Vergil's arm and rested on his shoulder, burning a hole through three layers of clothing. The older demon winced under the pain of Dante's touch, not because of the action but because of the golden blood trail left as a result of his direct defiance. "Please know this, and never forget it." He moved to the other side of the room and focused on something other than the current inconvenience.

He removed his hand and the blood seeped back into Vergil's temporary wound, healing instantly and regaining its feeling. He squared his jaw and rolled his shoulder for good measure, his eyes darting more anger in his brother's direction than he thought could manifest inside his frame. Vergil wasn't keen on following orders in any domain especially since his current residence held a NO RULES policy; having no limit to handing out excruciating pain to those who didn't deserve it was right up his alley, and there was no better place suited for him and his overbearing urges to make innocent souls suffer. Of course most of the guilt dissolved under the circumstance that these souls were in the Underworld and damned for an eternity of agony and suffering anyway, so what harm was there in prematurely ending their torment and sending them one step closer to a possible permanent death?

Apparently quite a bit.

Vergil arrived in the Underworld by improper means. Much like every other soul that had tolerated the imbalanced scales of Limbo and finding their escape in Hell, he had bypassed the rite of passage and came straight for the corrupted honeypot filled to the brim with killers and criminals of the worst nature with one mission in mind – a mission that would prove to be a monumental task not worth risking his life over; so many times had he escaped hanging by a thread that he ultimately, with a heavy heart, turned his back on the single destiny he assumed was his. When it came to light that the Underworld was under new management – and by his younger brother, no less – he inadvertently lost the last marble holding his sanities together and underwent a rampage that had not stopped until now. The only breaks in between were the complaints and trials held much like the one he was in now, indirectly inconveniencing Dante's intentions of bringing order to the sordid environment.

And he had absolutely no inclination to stop, regardless of his standing with Dante. All he had to do was make it through his punishments alive as he always did and the cycle would reset. His reign of terror was far from over; breaking the news to Dante took away half the fun.

"So, in essence of what you're saying, you wish for me to banish my birth right as a ruthless, irrational killing machine and replace it with an abandoned lost little piggy just trying to make its way home?" Dante, who was focused on a painting turned slightly at his brother's words. Vergil's face was void of all emotion with a look so spine-chilling it could undoubtedly freeze Hell over. Twice. His deep voice added unnecessary tension, hanging heavy inside the huge room.

The ruler of the Underworld couldn't look him in the eye. "I'm asking you to pipe down-"

"And I'm saying no." Yamato sensed the hostility in the room and materialised out of thin air. It would be pointless to attack Dante point blank in enemy territory, but the appearance of the pale blue sheath caused Dante to take a few rational steps back as he was cautiously reminded of the power Vergil possessed and acquired during his time there.

The amulet around his neck was glowing, alerting him of a supernatural energy within the vicinity possessing semi-harmful intent. He dropped his head to watch the magical stone as it reacted violently to Vergil's energy emitting from his own half, hidden under the collar of his coat. Dante found solace in the trinket, always coping with the obstacles of the day by drawing a resolving sense of tranquillity from its shiny core. He turned to it for advice in times of despair, letting his mother guide him through the never-ending maze of doubt and misperception to find an exit worthy of the leader that he was. Regretfully, he would have to face Vergil and his ways on his own, and his maze grew at such a rate that no end was in sight. "You think mom would be proud of what you're doing?"

Vergil had one lone weakness. Very few knew of it, and Dante was the one to exploit it most. "Don't you dare bring our mother into this-"

"You don't have to worry, Verge. She's dead – the dead have no conscience."

The reaction of the amulet intensified with Vergil's rising temper. Both halves vibrated against their chests, performing in invisible combat before their owners slit each other's throats. "I will not say it again, Dante."

And in that moment the light bulb finally clicked and a beautifully vulgar smile found its way to the surface while he trod softly to his throne. "I still have to reprimand you."

To the right of his throne sat The Watcher, a bulbous orb the size of a bowling ball. Within it swirled thousands upon thousands of blinking lights of different colours. Each light represented a life form's soul and the colour determined its race: when a light died out, the soul within the inebriated body rose and became one with the atmosphere – if strong enough, another body could be inhabited and the colours would mingle to create a new race of sorts. If not, it would wander with the dust until its strength ran out and dissipate from existence. The Watcher also carried the responsibility of keeping the obedience of Dante's subjects: similar to signing a contract, he would place his hands on the glass sphere and audibly state the reprimand to which an automatic, imperceptible link between The Watcher and the punished is established. This link detailed the journey on and off course, whereas the latter would begin the cycle of torture again as each reprimand rose exponentially in difficulty, making it damn near impossible to complete it unscathed.

Dante ushered Vergil to it – the ball itself could do no harm as he only carried out orders from his master. The blue clad hybrid walked without purpose to the artefact, humouring the demon hovering over in fascination. "Now isn't exactly the time to-"

"What do you see Vergil?" Dante asked, keeping his eyes on the round purple glass.

He was unbelievable. With a heavy sigh, Vergil leaned forward and tried to see what his brother did, straining his eyes against the fluorescent coloured ball of activity. He peeled his eyes for anything out of the ordinary; granted, he had never seen it before, but many beings in the deeper part of the Underworld spoke ill of the bead of terror which he guessed he was looking at right now. Vergil tilted his head in different positions and finally noticed something peculiar. Two things in fact, and now he was intrigued. "What are those?"

He was careful not to touch the sphere with his bare hands and managed to point out two golden blots in close proximity to each other. Their surface area was bigger than the rest of the multi-coloured dots and their cores had a gel-like swirl that made it distinctive from the other species. The anxious look in his eyes made Dante giggle, like the answer should be right in front of him. "That's us, Verge," he said, "and before you ask, our bloodline makes it gold. Although we are half and half, we are a pure demon and pure human mix-"

"Can we please just get to the p-" Deep in the centre of the orb – give or take a few inches – sat a tiny translucent light blinking happily by itself. It was almost invisible to the naked eye, and if you didn't know what you were looking for you'd probably miss it. The light moved abnormally, morphing in and out of shape, not a static circle like every other indicator inside the orb.

Vergil hadn't realised he fell silent and Dante stepped back while his brother stayed transfixed. "I take it you see him."

Vergil watched the blob move around as it mutated into unrecognisable shapes; he noticed that it stayed far away from the other blinking lights, assuming it was in some sort of haven away from anyone or anything that could potentially burst its bubble. "Him?"

"A human."

He wrenched his eyes away from the sphere, glaring at his brother. If looks could kill, Dante would have been on the ground in an instant. Vergil wasn't easily shaken, yet those two words burned a hole in the sane part of his psyche.

Humans never held a viable track record when it came to surviving any realm other than their own; unlike most of the creatures that took residence in Hell, they weren't built for survival. They were born, achieved their purpose and died off. According to him they were a waste of space and energy, created solely for the overpopulation of the planet they were given and to mess with and annoy superior beings such as himself. Vergil never liked them; he hated everything, but nothing came close to the hate he set aside for the human race. "Why are you telling me this?"

Dante watched the anger exude through clenched teeth as he stood upright and placed his hand on The Watcher, the purple turning to a blood red as his fingers sank into the mass and the object caught fire, claiming a sliver of Dante's soul as he relayed the verdict of Vergil's punishment. The fragment transformed into a pellet the size of a ball bearing and darted through his clothes, burning a hole in his skin.

"Because, as of right now and the next thirty days, he is under your care."


	3. Yes, it's just as bad as you think it is

Of all the mundane activities that spread across every race, Vergil's favourite pastime was ripping paper. Not only was it the purest form of wasting time and resource, the shredding noise and action replicated the same technique he used on the organs and limbs of a helpless victim that somehow got in his way and the slight thrill of catching them at a peculiar angle for the nagging pain of paper cuts added to its overall amusement. He managed to get through a bunch of A5 leaflets when a timid knock at the door broke the stride in his mind-numbing activity.

He had arrived home an hour ago from Dante's chamber. After giving the human a new home, his brother left him standing next to the throne as he got ready to do his weekly rounds of the receding levels of Hell. Covering his bare shoulders with his trademark red coat, he holstered Ebony, Ivory, and Rebellion, summoning a few of his toughest guards to accompany him. He strode past a still-stunned Vergil, rooted to the spot with seething rage. "So you've resorted to babysitting as a fitting sentence?"

"Just for you; because I know how much you hate to do things for other people."

The tiny burn itched frantically. "There are things I despise more."

Dante read between the lines. Hostile was not a word to be used around Vergil owing to its tameness. "He might surprise you, Vergil."

He didn't wait for Dante to finish his thought before disappearing behind a cloud of blue haze and landing at his doorstep miles away. Vergil was surprisingly calm being away from Dante, but now he had to make the necessary amendments for his new occupation as a caretaker. It left an unsettling taste on his tongue as he stepped through his threshold and noted his house was larger: an additional bedroom and bathroom had been added, along with much needed extensions to his own room, kitchen, lounge, study and library. His residence was easily three times its original size – more places for him to neglect his given task and have the boy look after himself. He took a full tour of his new house and was thoroughly impressed; it was short-lived when the reality of his situation overwhelmed him and he scrummaged through an open drawer, found something he could tear up and took a seat at his new dining room table.

Why was he knocking? He had a doorbell.

Vergil took a deep breath and expected the worst. He was upset with his brother, not the worthless lump of skin and bone that presently adorned his doorstep and there was no reason to take out his anger on a human – they were strongly outmatched and he couldn't take pleasure in savouring a victory against someone not inclined in putting up the least bit of resistance.

He opened his front door to find a young man no older than eighteen staring at the floor: he was five feet nine, pale skin, blonde-bleached hair, broad-shouldered, looking nothing like a human – not any human he had ever seen. He had come to know the species as scared, weak and fragile, and the person before him was the complete opposite. He looked like he was accustomed to fighting for his life, given his strong arms and toned physique, but something was off. The manner which Dante had approached his disobedience he assumed he would be getting some destitute, skin-covered skeleton that broke to pieces by a tap on the shoulder.

Vergil moved out of the entrance to his abode, the universal signal for 'come in', but the boy remained glued to his spot keeping his gaze at the spot just under Vergil's feet. He must have heard the small click of the door opening and lifted his head an inch, but that was all. He toyed with the straps on his huge backpack that carried everything he owned, shifting the weight of it around for a more comfortable position. Vergil frowned in his direction, utterly confused. Maybe he was one of those tortured souls who did nothing without instruction? Or maybe he was extremely shy.

"Are you planning to stand there the entire time?"

The stranger looked toward the direction of the noise and stared into Vergil's chest.

And he immediately saw it.

"I didn't know where you were." He spoke softly, like his normal tone would offend. It was as far away from threatening, scared even, and it served as the solitary tie he had to being human. Vergil took what time he could to have a good look from head to toe, and quite frankly he figured the next month to be a walk in the park, apart from that… one aspect. He had only ever heard of it, so he stepped forward and grabbed the boy's head in his hands and had a closer look for confirmation. The boy wasn't baffled in the least, almost as if someone manhandling his face was an everyday occurrence. Not knowing his own strength, he accidentally wrenched him through the door and pulled his face closer, spreading his fingers on the width of his neck as his hands sat comfortably under his prominent jawline. Two thin concentric circles outlined his dark pupils, vastly contrasting the untouched cerulean blue of his irises. The man at the end of Vergil's inspection stood perfectly still with a playful smile on his lips.

Vergil felt his stomach drop, abruptly grasping the purpose of his task. "You're blind."

"Trust me I know."

They stood in that position for a couple seconds more, not realising that he just pointed out being blind to a blind person and that the boy couldn't do much without Vergil making the first move: his hands left his neck and located his hands, pulling him over the threshold and closing the front door. Moving as quickly as he could, he guided him by the shoulders and led him to the big dinner table. Vergil was the one who needed the seat over his counterpart. "How the hell am I supposed to do this?"

The boy slung his backpack onto where he assumed the table would be and obliterated the pyramid of tiny torn papers Vergil constructed minutes before. "First off, clever choice of words; second, you don't have to do much. All I need from you is a full tour of the house with as much detail as you can give me. I need to paint a picture in my head of the general layout and then I'm out of your hair. I might bother you occasionally about small things, but that's about it." He laid the backpack down in front of him, feeling for the hidden pockets at its side. "I don't know the real reason I had to move in with you and I don't want the specifics, but I guess you must have done something pretty messed up to have a dead roommate who can't see." The undertone of 'having to help a disabled person' wasn't lost on Vergil, but he respected the boy's honesty about the matter. "I want you to know that I don't intent to make your life any more difficult than it already is. I can be a nuisance, but-"

"Please stop talking." Vergil fostered the habit of pinching the bridge of his nose in extreme frustration, pulling so hard at the skin that it nearly tore each time with the pressure bringing him close to tears. Vergil may have a history not pleasing to the eye, but he could not fathom the concept of self-pity; aside from misunderstanding the notion as a whole, he figured it pointless for anyone to talk themselves into a state of consciousness counter-productive to self-worth. Disregarding the humanoid factor, the new addition to the house had no right to make the judgement himself. That was Vergil's job. "Don't talk yourself down like that. It's infuriating."

The man on the other end of the table smiled; he was meticulous with his words and testing the waters without his host knowing and this was his way of scoping what kind of person Vergil was. He chose not to make a decision too early in the game, but so far, he gaged living with him wouldn't be a hassle. "My kind carries a certain stigma. I'm just-"

"Don't bother. I have no prior experience with 'your kind' and I would appreciate it if you allow me to raise my own prejudices if there are any." Vergil calmed down and rested back in his chair. "If you decide to make my life hell, let me hate you for my own motives. Don't give me reasons why I should and then have me hate you for something else. That's a waste of both our time."

He permitted himself some ridiculous moments and this was definitely one of them. He realised how farfetched it sounded, but it made logical sense in his head which is where it counted most. The man across from him seemed to understand as well and nodded. He found what he was looking for and held it in his hands, getting up and heading to Vergil's general direction. "I'm just trying for a good first impression. I'm a total dick." Without another word he handed the envelope over and Vergil recognised the handwriting as his own. "Instruction manual, ya know, in case I break."

It was Vergil's turn to smirk – something he hadn't done in a long time.

The newcomer sat peacefully in his seat. "Doesn't the silence kill you?"

The routine urge to not answer stupid questions was not a luxury he could afford. Sound was now key to his task's survival, so ignoring the world away was erased out of his vocabulary. "Things are never silent. Something is always happening somewhere; it's soothing in a destructive way."

He gave him a weak smile and slumped in his chair, restlessly slinging his arms over his bag. Vergil had to be in a particular mood to have to deal with his brother, but as previously stated it could include something important – it disgusted him to the ends of the earth just thinking about it, but he would use all the help he could get. Vergil watched him in morbid fascination as the letter sat open in his hands:

Vergil,

I'll say what I need to say in the short time your temper will allow me. Firstly, he is now your priority. Please put him first; he has struggled for far too long. Secondly, you are restricted to your day job, the grocery store, and house as places to go. Thirdly, and he won't tell you this, but he has a mild allergy to peanuts – he unfortunately loves the stuff and will try to eat them on the sly. Try as much as you can to stop that.

Lastly, and I added the line for dramatic effect, try your best to be the better version of yourself for him. Looking after him won't make sense to you now, but I know that time with him will be enough for you to understand why I did this.

I love you, brother, contrary to your own belief. For now, be safe and healthy with him by your side. Be there for him as much as he will be for you.

Vergil couldn't make sense of it as a whole, but he got the gist of what Dante was trying to say. He completely ignored his plea of attempting to sympathise with and compartmentalise what he was going through; with that being said, the task ahead didn't seem as challenging as he initially believed. The demon looked out his window out of habit, forgetting that Hell had no timekeeping system and couldn't blame delaying the day's first objective on bedtime. He didn't have one, but he presumed he would have to implement one for his guest. He was deep in contemplation until a soft voice derailed his train of thought.

"You mind helping me out tonight? You must be tired, but the sooner I know my surroundings-"

Vergil folded the paper and placed it on a close shelf, resisting the urge to tear it to tiny pieces. "This is something that needs to be done. Don't make it sound like a burden or I'll treat it like one." He made quick work cleaning the earlier paper off the floor and his new housemate listened judiciously to how and where he moved. He would be lying if he said he wasn't curious as to what the real deal was with the man across the table. "This house is as much yours as it is mine now. If you need anything, ask."

The man stood with an amused expression. "But I said-"

"And this is me officially being okay with it." To an untrained ear, the reply was deadpan – Vergil's attempt at dry humour was caught by the teen who laughed unexpectedly. A sound of this nature was meant to send him cringing to the floor – the ones he grew to love were the absurd, crazed giggles that spouted from the last breaths from his victims, regularly paired with bouts of blood. Why was he okay with it? Was it a subconscious move to prove to his brother that he couldn't be broken, or was it the more obvious answer, that he might just enjoy having the company of someone else and not only the voices in his head? Vergil, however, found a silver lining in all this – the joyous relief that he no longer had to physically control his emotions: the only thing more exhausting than keeping a straight face was pretending to keep a straight face.

"Fine: you got a name?"

Vergil walked briskly to him and lightly clutched at his forearm. "Call me anything other than Vergil and I will kill you. Yours?"

The subtle mix of anxiety to the new environment and the determined excitement for his new house reverberated from him, and the hint of a smile crept to the his face. "Call me anything other than Nero and I'd probably be fine with it."


	4. Give it some time

Vergil had no idea how tiring sleeping eight hours a day would be; living with a roommate hell-bent on them leading a healthier lifestyle, the first step was throwing his influence in Vergil's face; the next took the form of an adopted sleeping routine, forcing him out of his natural habitat of stress, tension and alertness. That happened to be the only change in the household and managed to annoy Vergil much more than anticipated, opening new doors to the concept of yawning – a contagious act that he despised more than the light snores emanating from behind Nero's bedroom door; he pressed his ear to the piece of wood and the feint hum vibrating from under his covers gave Vergil the go-ahead to sneak through the kitchen and fill a bowl full of vanilla ice cream, taking with him the little plastic container filled to the brim with chocolate sprinkles and proceeding to the only spot on the house he allowed himself to think freely and without prejudice – a small open-air balcony on the roof that was unexpectedly well hidden from the general public.

Wearing only a pair of scruffy blue jeans, his bare feet traversed the slick steps to his sanctuary; his blue amulet tinkled against his chest as he heaved his frame upward, eating small spoons of the ice cream the further he moved like a reward mechanism. Getting to the top, he added a few more sprinkles to his treat and munched away with a half-smile creeping to his features. The amulet around his neck was motionless and glowing to illustrate his owner's feeling of content and relaxation as he gawked at the energy of the town below him.

He leaned over the steel railings and held the creamy goodness in his hands, trying not to let his mind wander too much; he focused his mind and rubbed the glowing charm, feeding off its positive power and grazing his fingers across the burn in his chest. Almost entirely forgetting its existence, he sat his empty bowl on the floor next to him and shifted it out of the way to get a good look; the scar discoloured a small circle of skin between the plates of his ribcage, completely covered by his bulging muscles but there nonetheless. This would serve as the first ever visible scar on his body and the thought of his brother being behind the feat amused him somewhat – Vergil was never able to have the upper hand on his brother, and even being a few steps ahead meant nothing when you're up against the individual that matches you in every way.

In a different light, he saw the mark as the start to a friendship he didn't think he needed. The more he thought about it, the more bearable the aftertaste became and the more he began to understand what Dante was referring to in the letter of the first day. Vergil outright refused to acknowledge that looking after Nero was somehow turning him into a better person, but he couldn't ignore how much he had grown accustomed to the boy and his needs and his overall influence in his life. He assumed that roughly two weeks had passed since his arrival and it scared him that he was afraid of the next two that would fly by.

Speaking of the devil, lighter footsteps made their way up the stairs and Vergil waited as Nero came into view, decked in a Mickey Mouse t-shirt and pyjama bottoms carrying a towering bowl of vanilla ice cream. "I got a little worried that you were up here so long." The demon hit the railing, signalling to Nero where he was and the smaller man closed the gap quickly, offering the treat in outstretched hands as payment. "I couldn't find the sprinkles-"

The sweet tooth favourably took the bowl from his cold hands. "You were asleep when I came up here." He handed the bits of artificial chocolate over, knowing how much Nero enjoyed evenly distributing the flavour across the freezing surface.

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know where you are if I can't sense you in the house." Nero took the plastic container and popped it open, scoping the location of the bowl and holding it carefully while he scattered the chocolate over the top layer; his hand covered Vergil's as he got the full blow of the iciness, and the demon instinctively pulled away at the combination of Nero's warmth on the other side of his hand. The teen instantly stopped what he was doing, nervous that he had missed something on his way up.

He took a few steps back struggling to sense the lurking danger when Vergil tenderly grabbed his hand; the calmness he sensed through the demon's fingers settled him in ease, feeling embarrassed to have looked as frantic as he did for nothing as well as it being in front of Vergil. His personality and physicality couldn't have been more mismatched, and sometimes his humanity completely eluded Vergil. The look on Nero's face for a simple mistake on his part chilled his frame to the bone; there was very seldom a time he would venture outside of the house – knowing very little beyond its walls – and even the roof held something peculiar that he wasn't used to. He was only up there when Vergil was around owing to him not being able to defend himself if he had happened to be attacked. They were in the Underworld after all. "There's nothing wrong, Nero."

The feel of his icy cold hands quelled the beat of his heart drastically. "I'm sorry-"

"There's nothing to be sorry for." The two stood like this for a good while, not heeding the obvious tension between them. Unfortunately for the pair, one of them weren't blind. "Stand with me for a bit, would you?"

Giving no chance for him to answer, Vergil pulled him by the hand and attached it to the railing letting him know it was safe. Nero followed suit with the other and his knuckles turned white as he garnered how far up they really were. The other man saw an unfamiliar unease in his shoulders and face and he stepped closer, their arms touching as he dug out and ate morsels of the ice cream. He liked that Nero visibly calmed as he made his presence known, especially at that proximity. He stared into the distance and subtly moved closer to Vergil – such a pity he couldn't see what it did to the demon. "You've got some on your lip."

He always wondered how he knew that. "Would you like some?"

Vergil tried to get Nero to share in the addiction since the day he moved in; his obvious need for sugar was totally different from the manner in which the teen thought of it and he ended up eating tubs of the stuff by himself. "I'll get some when I go back down, thanks."

"Fine – motivation then." He scooped exactly half a spoon and laid the cold tip to the corner of Nero's mouth; the younger man obliged and allowed him to feed the cold sweetness to him, the smallest of dregs escaping and landing on his bottom lip. Nero swallowed the rest that had made it safely, timidly turning to him and patting the white dot while looking Vergil straight in the eye; he moved his hand to wipe at the stain tainting Nero's full pink lips only to have it swatted by the man himself. He shyly tapped the spot again with his other hand, grabbing Vergil's arm so the picture formed quicker in his mind.

Nero's boldness startled him, and the lust brewing in his cerulean blue eyes held no intention of dissipating anytime soon; Vergil took his time closing the gap between them and aimed straight for the out-of-place drop of ice cream, grazing his tongue over the expanse of his whole bottom lip and biting at the stained corner, sucking at what was left of the sugary cream. He pulled away from Nero's swollen lip with a satisfied smirk, placing a shy kiss on the poor spot that became victim to his onslaught; Vergil was fully aware of what he wanted, and whether or not he was going to give it to him was already answered by the sudden tightness in his jeans. The discomfort of the new weight between his legs pushed him and his tongue into Nero's welcoming body: the teen immediately entangled his fingers in his silver locks as their mouths fought the war of domination-

"I'm gonna soak for a bit then I'll make breakfast. That okay with you?"

Vergil snapped out of his day dream just in time to catch the falling empty bowl that slid through his clutches. The abrupt movements brought the white to Nero's knuckles once again, but laughed like never before when he added each sound collectively and realised what had happened. "Thank your collective lucky stars that this bowl is empty." His incredible memory allowed him to storm off before he aggravated Vergil any more, keeping his laugh at the soft-yet-audible level. The more he moved down the stairs the higher the level grew, spiting his usually agile, speedy, and composed roommate.

He left the roof and entered through the side door of the now steamy house; Nero had a habit of setting the temperature to scorching before stepping in and doing half of the work – the hotter the water the less scrubbing, he'd say, trying to justify why the rest of the house was covered in warm clouds of steam. Another compromise on Vergil's side, but on the plus side the abode got a full spring clean daily, so he wasn't complaining. Moving swiftly to the kitchen he turned on his kettle and reached for the tin of coffee he kept in the cupboard above the sink; the weight of it would bring really bad news to its owner, and Vergil's sulky look reflected back at him on the empty bottom of the tin. An idea suddenly sprang to him, throwing the tin in the trash and walking toward the open door of Nero's bedroom.

Vergil stopped at the threshold, not making a habit of invading his personal space whenever he saw fit. Looking into the clean room he spotted the man he was looking for standing at his desk with his back toward him and a fresh, fluffy towel draped around his waist. A mischievous smile crept onto his face – momentarily at its peak – when his eyes caught something on Nero's back: nine lengthy, razor-thin marks running straight from one side to the other covered his creamy pale skin; the flesh around them were puffy and enflamed, a lighter shade of pink than the colour of the scars. His playful mood made a full three sixty in broad daylight and he wanted nothing more than to find out who carried out such an atrocious act; the irony wasn't lost on him either.

"You just gonna stand there or are you planning on coming in?" The scars moved with the taut muscles in his back as he turned and motioned to the edge of his bed. Nero's eyes never left the desk for some reason and he concealed his annoyance well, practically enraged as his eyes trailed the marks.

Vergil politely moved into the room and sat down clearing his throat. "Would you like to go for coffee? We're all out." He spoke softly, only as loud as he needed for his housemate to hear.

"I have of those sticks if you want." Before he could reply, Nero was at his chest of drawers locating the hidden emergency coffee he kept in times like these. When he first heard of Vergil's addiction, he made a note to always keep things like these handy – the ice cream obsession did not compare to his love of caffeine, and what a better way to prove his usefulness than to be a saviour on his times of need. At least, that's how he saw it.

"Actually, I think we could both go for some fresh air if you're up for it." Nero halted his search for the sachets, liking his idea every second that it sunk in. "There is a place not far from here, really quaint and quiet that we could go to. They serve food there as well, seeing as we both haven't eaten." There was a concealed sadness lining his voice that was missed by the trained ear, his own excitement overlapping with Vergil's gloom. His mood was ruined for the rest of the day, but that wasn't going to stop him from treating Nero to a big brunch. "We can leave in about an hour."

The man on the bed virtually heard the smirk that encased the other's face; Nero played it off well, but if there was anything worth getting a trophy for achieving, it was the ability to successfully screen the true emotion from your voice and have Vergil not pick up on it. "So I can't give my own answer to questions these days?"

"If you consider the person who is asking and the type of question it is, there is no option other than the burning desire to say yes… yes?" The amount of sass that masked the previous hurt was undeniable and he thoroughly enjoyed how much of a tease he was being to Nero.

No reply came so it was definitely a yes; just a bouncy laugh from him was enough to confirm his former theory. Nero left the room speedily, giving the demon's calf a firm smack as he returned to the bathroom and locked the door. Vergil, being the nosy bastard he was, went to his desk and saw a full unopened bar of peanut brittle sitting in clear view; after little time it became routine for him to sniff out every item in the house that contained peanuts, even those buried around the house, for the sake of Nero's life. His sense of smell was far superior than his roommate's, so the human tracking them down would be on the opposite end of the 'easy-as-cake' stick; he grabbed at it, quietly sneaking into his room and swearing under his breath as he crossed the bathroom door before shoving it in his bedside drawer.

Vergil found and dressed in a clean sweatshirt and his trademark blue coat, pulling of the amulet and letting it fall into its left side inner pocket, and his strappy knee-high brown leather boots. Walking out of his room, he walked over to the freezer and lifted the handle for his 'good luck' seventh serving for the day.

Nero stood in front of the vanity mirror, straining to remember what he looked like with a smile on his face; likewise, he couldn't recall the last time he was this happy.

The walk to the coffee shop was short; it was on route to the grocery store so it was within the boundaries set by his brother. They were both secretly disheartened at the duration – given their close proximity while they were walking – passing numerous other stores on the way there. Walking into the small café, the customers went silent upon seeing the unforgettable cloak swaying as he came to an abrupt stop, but even more so the gasps that followed after hearing him utter 'for two' made them curious to who the unlucky soul who would be sharing his table. Nero's blindness was undetectable at a far distance, so when he stepped in after Vergil he could feel the many pairs of eyes watching them as they were escorted to a private table in a dark corner, the way he preferred.

They had arrived at their table and the waiter set down the menus. "Ignore them."

"What do you mean?" Vergil took his seat closest to the wall and out of view from prying eyes – it was the best position to protect Nero if danger were to sneak up on the unsuspecting clientele.

"I can feel you getting riled up."

The demon grappled at a menu and opened it, pointlessly hiding his face. "You've never seen me riled up."

Nero flinched at the poison that laced his reply; his instincts screamed at him not to delve on the topic further, but he was prone to snubbing his gut feeling in the search for the ultimate truth especially since he moved in. Vergil was more than a mystery, and peeling each layer little by little meant that progress was made on his part; his methods were unconventional but they got him to where he needed to be. The man across from him was currently in 'asshole mode', where being unreasonable and unreachable was his specialty. "This morning, when you saw my scars, was that not you being riled up?"

The menu was set down and he shifted in his chair. Vergil spoke softly, drained of all menace. "That was different."

"How?"

Their waiter returned for their orders, momentarily breaking the subtle tension that encased them. "Can I please have the bacon, cheese, and tomato sandwich on ciabatta with a huge coffee, and he'll have the chicken schnitzel, mushroom sauce, huge chocolate milkshake-"

"Large."

Nero broke his flawless streak. "What?"

"The size is large, not huge."

"I meant bigger than large. You have those, right?" Vergil looked up at the waiter with a 'if the answer isn't yes I'll eat your face' look.

The waiter forced himself to hold in his laugh at the banter and the responsibility of serving them an item off the menu in a non-existing size. "I will see what I can do."

"See what happens when you ask?" He smiled up at the man as he scribbled on his small pad of paper. "After that, we'll both have huge chocolate sundaes, but hold on the chocolate for mine." He gathered the two menus and confidently handed them over, still keeping a keen eye on his partner.

"Just plain vanilla ice cream then?"

"I like the way you think." He took the menus and walked off with a sweet smile while Nero sat with his tongue in his cheek, his mind wandering about the other sides of Vergil that emerged alongside the promise of food. For someone that barely ate back at home, his approach to food intrigued him but that was a conundrum for another day. There was only so much Nero could handle and process, and yet the day was far from being over.

"You knew what I was going to order."

Vergil scrunched his nose. "That is what I usually have when I venture here." He sat up satisfactorily, crossing his legs and tilting his head to get a better view of him; Nero appeared so content and serene in spite of his difficulties and he would probably give most of his arm to be as relaxed as the being across the table – unfortunately for him, today was but a taste of his influence that still hovered over the domain and he began to think how many spines he would have had to chill to gain such an ominous rank. What's worse is that Nero got his first taste of the angle Vergil tried to desperately keep hidden from him and what he didn't need were a bunch of strangers altering the teen's already soiled perception of the demon, something he didn't have the power to change. The unexpected feeling of dread flashed in his mind and disappeared the instant he realised Nero was looking in his direction. "With it being your first time, it is pointless in watching you eat something that you may not enjoy. It's quite reassuring knowing we have the same taste."

Nero smiled the brightest smile Vergil had seen on him. "Vergil, you are truly something else."

In that moment, the scar in his chest started burning and sent volts of pain through his entire frame, but he was too preoccupied to notice.

As if gifted by Dante himself, the ice cream store on their route home was open for business. Vergil entered and exited with a serious face as if the plain, three-story treat was his calling to endeavour and conquer with utmost ease. Nero felt the glee course through his veins – or at least Vergil's version of it – as they walked shoulder to shoulder down the bustling street they had to cross before the millions of back alleyways they opted to take for his safety.

He was a million miles away as he took a few steps forward, not gathering Vergil was no longer beside him; when he did he called out to him and discovered him frozen against a store window. "What is it?"

"I can't believe these things still exist."

"What things exis- VERGIL?" He was wrenched from his own train of thought by Vergil who practically dragged him into the shop.

He stopped dead in his tracks and his immense strength held their own against Vergil's momentum. "It's just a toy store, no need to be afraid."

This was unknown territory and a rather uncomfortable situation for the teen; too many noises meant too many things happening which meant very little he could do to prevent trouble or spot danger. It wasn't the ideal place for someone like him, not even considering the children he might accidentally squash to death. He exaggerated the last thought, but it remained a possibility. "I'll wait outside, I'm gonna break stuff."

Vergil could see the fear wracking his body but his welfare was better suited inside the trendy store than outside in the open; he extended his reach for Nero, grabbing him at the last second and holding him in place and walking to his side. Lowering his head he whispered in his ear, the heat of his breath ghosting the shell of Nero's ear. "Stay close to me and you'll be fine." The younger was unmoving at the impulsive intimacy – frozen in place in having Vergil's arms around him, it threatened his psyche to move even an inch in the likely event that things would resume to reality and the moment would end. He splayed his hands over the front of the blue coat looking for a spot to grasp. "One purchase and we can go home, okay?"

Nero nodded; the separation was painless, but he lingered in that very spot as his sense of hearing took over. Awkward was too nice a word to describe him in the time Vergil took to buy what he needed, and fortunately it didn't take too much time. Seizing him by his hands, they left the shop; the mid-afternoon wasn't nearly as chilly as it could have been but Nero's hands seemed to have minds of their own, shaking uncontrollably apart from the rest of his body. Upon closer inspection, Vergil noticed the colour had left his face, leaving a grey ghost replica of his face as a replacement. "Mind telling me what's got you so spooked?"

Nero's grip tightened unintentionally. "Too many sounds…Too many things to process…"

"It was only for a minute-"

"I know."

The two had reached an alleyway one street short of the little walkway to their place; once they walked over the threshold everything would reset and the conversation would be over, but the older man would have none of it. At lightning speed Nero felt the mild cold of a brick wall on his back, matching the demon's voice. "There's something you're not telling me."

Vergil was hurt; that wasn't good. "Just… just don't do that again-"

"Why?" He was infamous for his persistence, a fact that Nero would soon find out to be mind-numbingly petrifying – his arms blocked him in place, his palms plastered on the wall on either side of his head. "Out with it. Now."

He was no walkover and equalled the other's level of anger; provoking him would get them nowhere slowly. "DOES IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU HOW DIFFICULT IT IS TO LIVE WITHOUT SEEING, HUH? I FELT DOWNRIGHT HELPLESS OVER THERE; THERE WAS NO WAY I COULD'VE DEFENDED MYSELF, LET ALONE YOU. IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO YOU AND I HAD THE POWER TO STOP IT YET COULDN'T, IT WOULD KILL ME. NO CONSCIENCE, NO RESOLVE TO RUN AWAY – JUST ANOTHER FUCKING TRAGEDY THAT WOULD EAT ME ALIVE!"

Nero's lungs were scorching from the outburst, trying to keep his emotions in tow. Why he had bothered spilling all of that information in the middle of an alley annoyed him; had Vergil not persisted on the stupid topic he wouldn't be the muddled mess in the dark he presently was.

The sound to snap him from his mental breakdown was at the end of the alleyway where it entered the street. "Of all the people to worry about, I am not one of them."

He followed it and things appeared much clearer being at Vergil's side. "I was told to protect you-"

"I'm a mass murderer, Nero. I need protecting from myself."


	5. Things were slowly shifting into place

The smell of peanuts came from the kitchen. It was strong, meaning it was hidden not too long ago. Vergil was more than willing to play this endless game so long as Nero eventually pieced the puzzle inside his head. He shook his head at his unoriginality, hiding it between his personal assortments of dark chocolate – the first place he normally looked when he picked up the familiar scent. He loved nothing more than watching Nero revisit his hiding spots and seeing his face transform into utter distaste at his beloved memory betraying the true location of his items.

He gazed out of the kitchen window at the never-changing sunset orange sky that kept delinquents at bay, hiding the beauty of the sun, the moon and stars that were so easily taken for granted. The comforts of night and day were not afforded in the infernal place and the quality of the serenity and shadows of the dark could not be compared to living under one sky that destroyed most of what good was left in the sordid place.

Vergil looked in the direction of one of the two good things that existed in its depths, making his way to the door that stood wide open. Nero wore his noise-isolating headphones with his head on his desk listening to something through his laptop; the screen was pitch black and acted like a mirror as he moved the cursor just above his head, waking the low-lit panel as words in white on a black background blinked across it. Lines of text covered the screen with little regard for the rules of spelling and punctuation, but he guessed that none of it mattered seeing as Nero couldn't read what was written. He had never seen a computer program like it.

The lights on the screen stopped blinking and Nero's head shot up to move to the next chapter. Clicking the pause button, he hung the headphones around his neck and scratched at the itch in his ears from listening for too long. "What is this?"

He did little to hide the fascination in his voice. "I'm reading."

Knowledge was one of three of Vergil's ultimate weaknesses. "Then what are the words for?"

"It's the format of the book: they cater for varying levels of blindness, so to speak. Some of us can see but not clearly, some of us have tunnel vision, and some can't see at all. The text on the screen cater for the first two cases whereby the sharp contrast of black and white allow them to see the words better, and the blinking makes it easier for the people with tunnel vision to follow. They also have the option of listening to it, which is primarily reserved for the ones with complete loss of sight, like me. The text comes up automatically and changing it is a task and a half – if I do take it off the laptop goes to sleep within an hour."

Vergil nodded along with his explanation and allowed a few seconds to stew. "I came in here to find out what you wanted for dinner. I'm too lazy to cook and I know you haven't eaten anything all day."

In the heat of the moment, the older man rested his hand on Nero and caressed across the expanse of his toned back; feeling the indents of the scars and stroking gently across them, Vergil hung his head on his shoulder and enjoyed the way the other man's body basked in the unplanned attention – Nero relaxed into his touch, paying no heed in overthinking the significance of his courtesies but not completely discounting how good it felt to have his hands on him. "We both just woke up, it's no biggie – I wasn't ready for the day all day."

And neither was Vergil. "You have anything in mind? Something you haven't had in some time?"

Nero tried his utmost to not lose his cool, but it took most of his sanity to convince himself that he wasn't going to do anything about the fact that they were, indeed, inexplicably dangerously close to one another. The smirk that spread across Vergil's face grazed the skin of his jaw, and it took everything in him to flout the bubbling sensations in the pit of his stomach. It seemed more appropriate to blame it on hunger. "I haven't had pizza in a while."

"Is there anything you'd prefer not to have on it?"

His mind meandered to the fragment of his subconscious responsible for recognising and computing human speech whilst the rest of him melted at the actions of the demon; the skin at his lower back tingled upward through his spine, hitting the base of his neck and reminding him of the yet unanswered question. "Anchovies... and banana. I'm 'allergic'," using bunny ears with his fingers to imply the severity of his aversions.

Giving his left shoulder a final tight squeeze, Vergil resumed his calm albeit antagonising posture, leaving behind the warmth that radiated from Nero's frame; his lingering fingertips scorched the human's soft skin, dragging with him the slowly-spun thread that was the remnants of his sanity. "Carry on reading. I'll let you know when they arrive." Vergil left taunting the poor boy for another time; he made a speedy exit to the living room before Nero sensed the other true intention of his visit. By the time the demon reached his bedroom door he stared at his hand as the welcoming sensations withered through the tips of his fingers.

The housemates sat in silence and chewed happily on their unhealthy dinner – Vergil relished in not having to punish himself with yet another side salad and Nero, although tempted, could not resist the ease with which the fast food slid contently down his throat. The choice of mushrooms, green pepper, pepperoni, onion, beef and chicken sang harmoniously with their taste buds contrasted to the dullness of the diet they were currently enduring. By no means was it a jab at Nero's finesse in the kitchen, but neither could deny that every calorie they presently consumed was worth the prohibited cheat day.

The fewer the slices became the more Vergil felt the need to initiate conversation. Noting the slowing pace of Nero's munching, his enthusiasm grew after every bite he took. "Have you managed to make any headway with it?"

The teen's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Haha, I can't be the judge of that…" He stood and scurried to his room, bringing with him the toy Vergil had purchased some time prior: the Rubix cube was an integral part of his childhood – receiving his first when he was three years old, he labelled it intriguing for the intelligent use of forecasting and problem-solving he experienced when he succeeded in matching all the squares on each respective side. Once he mastered the theory and tricks behind it, every mixed cube Dante presented to him was fixed within minutes, thinking nothing of the massive feat he pulled off each time. The self-proclaimed virtuoso wished to embed his fascination on Nero which would prove far more difficult than teaching his younger brother to solve the colourful, twisting puzzle.

Nero utilised the basics of his memory bank, mentally constructing the cube side by side and twisting accordingly, navigating a suitable position to place every block. Vergil luckily remembered one thing: if he by some miracle lost his place at any point all hope was lost – the one thing he was banking on. Taking the puzzle from him, Vergil set down his pizza slice and inspected his two hour handiwork. "For a first try, it's really not that bad, considering." With one look Vergil mapped the process in his head and quickly solved it in his head, turning the rows and columns and resulting in a picture perfect cube. "Here: you mix it up then retrace your steps – you must train your mind to see it better. You were really close, Nero."

The cube was handed over and he ran to his room. "I'll try later; I'm still a bit hungry."

Vergil nodded to the empty room as he took another bite. "You ready to talk about those scars yet?"

Nero continued to eat. "It's not a fact of me being ready; it's that you won't understand my reasoning."

"What makes you think I won't?"

"Because it isn't logical." He stuffed the last piece of crust into his mouth and grabbed a serviette to wipe off his mouth and hands.

"I understand illogical things, Nero. I choose to stay away from them." He sat back in his chair, his appetite lost by the change of atmosphere. "I'm intrigued by the total system reset when you walk through those gates, yet those look undeniably fresh. Regardless of how you see it, there is a logical explanation for that."

He forced himself to take a deep breath and felt the bile at the back of his throat. "I asked the guys in charge to undo-"

"Why?" He audibly moved his chair closer to Nero and reached for his hand with both of his own; the visibly-shaken human glared at the contact not knowing where else to look. "Tell me why."

The teen was deflated. Getting it over and done with was the only option Vergil would allow. "If they disappear it means I choose to forget what happened to me, and everything I had to go through before would seem in vain, so I kept them to fuel my rage to a level fitting for what I have to do until I finish what he started. To stay focused I need to bleed; I like the feeling of anger coursing through my veins to push me forward, even though all I can do is wait. When it happens, I promise you I'll get them checked out." Vergil's thumb traced small, soothing circles on the back of his hand. He needed to listen and milk for information at the same time, but the vast amount of emotion echoing across the table was sufficient to throw him off his inquisitive ways – he was aware of how much Nero hated talking about his past and compelling him would go against the progress they had made thus far. "Why do they bother you so much?"

He heeded no attention after the word 'he'. This was the only instance Nero had ever mentioned another being of sorts, and the uneasy numbness that assailed his brain suddenly knew the missing link lied in that very word. "They do not bother me; this sort of inconsistency is just out of place in a hellhole like this. Those cuts are clean: full of purpose and intention, and the voices in my head are nagging at another angle to all of this."

"That's gonna to have to wait, Vergil. There are things you don't want to know-"

"You are sorely mistaken if you think this has anything to do with me." His frustration got the better of him and his voice teetered on the edge of irritation for no reason; the deadpan tone didn't upset Nero in the least, but it was plenty to be on high alert around him. He trusted Vergil with his life, but from what he had heard and experienced first-hand that could mean next to nothing to the demon. On the other side of the spectrum he found solace in the concern that the other tried to portray, but the benign concept and overall farfetchedness compared to his character negated such an instance, and he hoped to be proved wrong at some time during their stay together. "Seeing you in pain makes me uncomfortable."

Vergil wrenched his hands away and made his way to his bedroom, feeling out of his element and leaving the conversation where it was – he had not begged a day in his life and he wasn't planning on starting now. He was distressed at having no control over the situation, but curiosity would not get in the way of his pride.

Nero called out after him. "Don't be upset at not knowing a solution to everything-"

"I am here if you need me," he called kindly from his threshold, ignoring the obvious and maddening comment from his housemate; stating the truth held no foundation in spoiling Vergil's mood. "Please know that."

Nero stood away from the dining table immediately regretting his words, but Vergil's bedroom door closed quietly halting the boy mid stride; tossing fact was the older's job, and owing to the slow processing that took place in his ego, seldom would elements make its way through the correct paths and land in their prearranged destination. The demon followed no such train of thought and disregarded every word that argued against how he perceived himself – growing to care for Nero made the truth worse, not only because his claim was valid, it was something he had picked up at some point during their interactions with one another. The control freak in his torso screeched as he undressed for bed, flinging all of his clothes to one side of the room and stashing his half of the amulet into his bedside drawer.

Nero sat back in his seat and toyed with the empty cardboard pizza boxes, feeling horrible for no reason.

Vergil was still awake in the dead of night and the light footsteps in the kitchen meant Nero was too. The nimble taps on the tiled floor paced the borders of every room of the house, walking over the same spots until they came to rest outside Vergil's bedroom door. For the obvious reason that it was uncharted territory, Nero never ventured into his sanctuary; he had been invited in many times but opted for the comfort and security the threshold had on offer. Apart from it housing a ticking time bomb that could detonate at any time, the danger in becoming too cosy and accustomed to this portion of the house was prevalent and miles away from where he needed his mind to be. Claiming responsibility for anything that may happen between the four walls was not a death wish he was ready to sign.

His hands and feet moved as separate entities to bring him to knock on Vergil's door; from outside he could hear the older man shuffle under the sheets to open his door. Not wanting to disturb him out of bed, he turned the handle and stuck his hand through the small gap he created, the Rubix cube in full view of the inhabitant. "I just need you to look."

Nero's hand was around the steel grip when the door was wrenched inward, creating an ungodly gust of wind that seemed fitting for the situation. The puzzle was taken from him for closer inspection, and the presence disappeared deeper into his room. "Are you going to come in? It's warmer in here." He heard no attempt from him to retract the roots he had planted outside his door. "Don't worry, I bite."

He was hesitant owing to Vergil's unpredictable mood, but it appeared all clear as he backed away from the entrance and Nero stepped inside; it was easily five degrees warmer in his room compared to the rest of the house and the toastiness enticed him, allowing his like of warmth to overtake the unnecessary dread he felt entering the space. He closed the door behind him and turned, noting something out of the ordinary - not bone chilling or fear-rendering, just something... off.

Vergil took a few steps and spoke with his back to the door. "Is something wrong?"

Nero scratched the back of his hand in nervousness. "Can we just-"

"If you don't mind, I think I'm done with trying to squeeze things out of you." He kept his attention on the cube, twisting it five times to its original state. Turning to face Nero, his eyebrow raised at how small his already big frame appeared in the large room; the teen backed into the door creating more space between them to diffuse the bomb tugging at the back of his brain while Vergil maintained his position on the opposite end. "You owe me nothing, and if you want to keep it to yourself, do that."

"But-"

"Stop, Nero." He watched the teen's gaze soften as he shrunk further into the door. Not a thought in his mind could predict what he wanted to say, but the breath wasted to justify a clear conscience was a courtesy Vergil couldn't bring himself to extend. "I think it's better to have only one of us overthinking at a time."

Nero moved away from the wall and stood to his full height, not knowing that his gaze presently burrowed into Vergil's soul. "Look, I'm sorry-"

"For what? I don't recall you doing anything wrong-"

Nero's eyes ran frantically across the room as the remaining senses took over, looking for something and nothing in particular: he prayed it was miniscule – and it probably was – but he needed to know what the feeling represented. It was new; he didn't like new. "Something's wrong."

Vergil's eyes narrowed and stared him down. "Wrong?"

"Not wrong in the normal sense, but talking to you feels different." The human took a couple of steps forward and set in in the middle of the room; Vergil did the same, stopping within an inch of Nero's outstretched hand. "Ah, wait, are you wearing new clothes I haven't seen you in?"

Vergil nonchalantly fidgeted with the toy in his hands. "I'm not wearing anything."

Nero's eyes grew to a size bowling balls would envy; this was new, but it was a new he could get used to. "You're… naked?" Taking a deep breath it sunk further into the base of his skull and his lungs as they hurried to provide oxygen to his brain, his engorged heart picking up in speed and wildly beating against his ribcage. His pupils betrayed the inner workings of his body, eradicating the potent cerulean blue in one fell swoop. "Like naked, like… birthday suit and all?"

Looking at the suffering form in front of him, Vergil could smell the sparks fly from the overworked cogs that made up Nero's mind: maximising his momentary advantage the demon utilised the sinister half of him in stepping forward and flattening the other's hand on his chest. Nero wasn't one for face value, so he found it deep in himself to provide the best form of proof that his housemate couldn't falter, all the while killing him in the process. His hand rose with every breath Vergil took as it synced to the rhythm of his heartbeat. "I sleep naked, and it's technically sleepy time."

The teen's head snapped at the contact; his skin was unsettlingly warm and soft considering the incredible muscle underneath. The reality set in a second too late for his brain to delegate the appropriate actions to his respective limbs as he triggered the autopilot switch – embarrassingly, his mouth gaped open as he found himself moving closer and his other hand joining the first, navigating Vergil's broad torso; the gentle trail of his fingertips tickled him slightly, and a few chuckles here and there caused his body to react in the strangest way as Nero continued along the endless ripples of flesh covering his body.

"What's this?"

His search came to an end when his thumb hit Dante's mark on his chest. Nero couldn't hold his relief at finally finding a flaw on his body and chuckled sweetly at the manner in which Vergil exhaled to answer his question. "How typical of you to locate the one scar I own on my entire body."

"Well, what can I s-" A shadow enveloped his features as he examined it for more gruesome detail, and finding none. "It's a perfect circle, are you kidding me?"

Unfortunately for the demon, his body enjoyed the little attention it received from Nero. He bit deep into his lip the longer his hands lingered on his heating skin, craving more of his touch. In a subtle nod to quench a thirst he could do without, Vergil grasped his hand and ran his thumb over the supple skin at Nero's wrist. "The guy who gave it to me is quite the perfectionist."

Not knowing if he was meant to detect the extra vibrations in his hand, Nero claimed his arm gently and Vergil released his grip. The more he concentrated on these irrelevant details, the harder he'd fall into something reserved for someone else. Still, the situation alone, although chaotic and not what either had expected would indeed be overthought by both parties, irrespective of Vergil's earlier words of wisdom. "Is? He's still alive? You are a changed man, Vergil."

Something flashed over his eyes that went undetected by the man walking to his bedroom door; appreciation or sorrow, it would go unaddressed and unknown to the people who cared for it most. "I wouldn't go that far."

A few steps back, Nero looked at him sceptically: the mysterious aura that revolved around his housemate was a piece of history he considered on a need-to-know basis. The person he was back then reflected very little in the person that he is now, but deep down the scars of the things he'd become accustomed to experiencing dug its way much deeper than the scars he possessed – it saddened him that he now had to venture into a battle with little to no armour, but the knowledge of peeling back the layers of the enigmatic creature before him drove the passion forward, and giving him a confidence boost Vergil would inevitably give into. Nero slipped through the door quickly, sticking his head from the other side, the tenderness in his face and voice hitting with precise intention. "Get some sleep, okay?"

Minutes later, a myriad of noises came from the rest of the house as Vergil climbed back into bed: the struggling of a closed door, a dull thump landing on a mattress and the floor in quick succession, the wheels of an office chair squeaking under the strain of weight, and a hushed ' _where on earth did I put that peanut brittle?_ ', followed by drawers opening and closing with a heavy sigh on each end. He balled up tighter under the covers and closed his eyes, not wanting to disappoint in following the single order he was given; it was disturbed once more, however, as Vergil giggled hysterically at the ' _of course he has a six pack, who were you kidding?_ ' coming from the other bedroom.


	6. He wasn't going to let this go

He took a deep breath as he looked at the bustle of the last shop he had to enter; the endless aisles all looked identical and the sole aspect differentiating them were the neon colours and fruity smells coming from the shelves. ' _It's two things_ ,' he reminded himself. ' _It's just two things_ '; Nero would later have an earful about why he smelled like a cinnamon pancake when he came home.

He had ventured for a day out in the scenery wanting Nero to have some alone time in the house; it had been quite some time since Nero moved in and they had been in each other's faces long enough for Vergil to assume he needed some space for some… well, he feigned ignorance, but he knew Nero would rather do some things by himself than having the added anxiety of another set of eyes present.

Nero was still in bed when Vergil was getting ready to head out. His bedroom door stood wide open, but Vergil maintained a soft stride in crossing the stretch of tiles that led to the threshold. It was quiet, meaning he was awake, but peeking into the room and spotting the mess of thick blankets piled over his deep breathing frame implied that the night hadn't gone too well for him: Nero would occasionally suffer from a restless night evade of sleep and all the benefits that came with it. There were times when Vergil would hear him toss and turn for hours on end, not finding a comfortable enough position to sleep in or plainly that his brain wasn't ready for its scheduled reset. He would be up in the morning and drone around like a lifeless zombie drinking two cups of coffee per hour just to stay awake and out like a light for a long time come night fall.

The demon watched as he wrestled with the covers once more, grunting at himself for not completing the one task he was actually good at. He knocked softly, and the groggy man lifted the covers under which he burrowed every time he went to bed; his eyes were bloodshot and his hair messy, bending at the edges where he folded it under his pillow and sniffing away at the fresh air that he despised after waking up. It was a scene out of an adorable horror film – one where the polite killer who made his presence known gets set on fire by the family he had just woken in the dead of night. Vergil fiddled with the lock on his door, showing that he hadn't fully entered the room. "I'm going out for the day. You need anything?"

Nero lifted the blankets and shuffled to lean against his headboard, rubbing and pinching his face in an attempt to bring to back to life. He pulled them to his neck and yawned into the material hiding in squishy embarrassment. "You're leaving me alone? At home?"

"I'm just going to pick up a few things – we're almost out of food."

The tired face hovering above the blankets suddenly changed to one clouded with worry. "Did I do something wrong?"

The human gazed up at him, and Vergil looked deep into those intense blue eyes of his that betrayed every emotion he was experiencing clearer than his eyesight would ever be. The tension from the past few days had certainly taken a toll, but he tried his best to betray the blatant truth that Vergil now saw for himself. "What makes you think that?"

Nero scratched a non-existing itch at the back of his head, sadly yawning and scrunching his face at his inability to keep his eyes open. "You don't like leaving home, and now you'll be gone all day? I just presumed-"

He dipped along with the sudden weight at the end of the bed and accordingly moved his long legs to make some space for the demon. "I'm giving you a day off from me. I have a few things to take care of, that's all." Nero nodded woozily with his decision, yawning a third time as he snuck his toes from under the sheets for some cool air.

Vergil chose to sit down because he could see it was something that Nero could have needed. He sensed the bloodshot eyes and runny nose were partly caused by the restless night but decided against outright asking him why he had been crying all night and substituted his company instead – if by some slim chance Nero wanted to talk about it, he'd be there and vice versa, as he had promised all those nights ago. Vergil stayed resolute waiting for Nero to at least say something in which he would gage that he was going to be okay all alone; alternatively, the teen relaxed his chest on his now bent knees and set his head on his arms, looking out of the heavily curtained window.

"I need hair dye. I don't know what colour this is, so anything close to it would be fine."

With nothing more to be said between the two, the dip in the bed disappeared and Nero let out the deep breath he held waiting for Vergil to leave the room. His tiredness affected his judgements, not knowing he was still in plain sight at the door. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. I can't sense you from the store."

The gloom around Nero disappeared as he gave a quick chuckle. "I won't." He left Vergil with a small smile, letting him know he would all was good.

So here he was, the hair care aisle, searching for the specific box of hair dye recommended to him via an ad they had playing on loop on one of the many TVs inside the store. He had hoped for someone else to also be looking to colouring their hair, but as usual he would never be so lucky.

Many of the other shoppers observed in amazement as he calmly bent down and plucked at the boxes one by one, stunned at this different side of Vergil; it was seldom that he was ever spotted out – shopping – in the time when the rest of the Underworld was buzzing, the spaces he occupied were no longer left in shambles, and as an added bonus pointed out by one particular female shopper, he was quite handsome when he wasn't ripping the life from the bodies of innocent bystanders. The sight was almost too good to be true, even for Vergil, so he wasn't in the least startled when the air around him turned hot and thick as his twin brother's scent hit him like a truck. He continued scaling through the boxes, not wanting to think about the possible rise to his blood pressure standing a few feet away.

"Hello brother." Vergil kept his eyes straight, still looking.

"Lovely day to be outside, isn't it?" Again, no sign of acknowledgement.

Dante was mockingly hurt that Vergil wasn't replying. "What's got your undies in-"

"If I respond, it implies we are having a civilised conversation." He pretended to be consumed in his task, reading application instructions at the back of random boxes until he finally found the familiar metallic red strip with a woman smiling at him illustrating how happy she was with her new hair.

"Never took you for the cosmetic enhancement type."

Getting what he needed, he stood and walked in the opposite direction to the other aisle at the end of the store; Dante followed close on his heels as Vergil attempted a new record on how long he could hold his temper in front of him. "What do you want, Dante? I'm too busy to sit through a lecture right now."

He wasn't planning on making this easy for his big brother. "No lecture. I just want to know how he's doing."

"Can you not just pluck it from my mind and decide for yourself?" Vergil turned down the supplement aisle for double doses of Vitamin D.

"I could, but it's more worthwhile to hear you admit how much you are enjoying his company."

He bent down looking for the usual brand he bought, shuffling other boxes out of the way to get the fresh stock at the back. The anger fizzing in his chest rose to an unspeakable degree, but he was more than capable on stowing it in the recesses of his consciousness where it would catch flame and burn out, leaving tiny remnants of ash that either withered with time or sat in the mounting heap he kept for a rainy day. "I never said that-"

"I also know that there are things in there you'd prefer no one to hear or see, and I don't think you'd be too happy with me if I did. So either you answer me without telling me what I'm not meant to know or I pluck and I see everything." Dante stuck his tongue in his cheek, half smirking at the offer his brother now couldn't refuse.

Of course there were things in his head he didn't want Dante to see; as an example, the millions of ways he had pictured himself decapitating the poor sod and sending his soul to the depths of oblivion without any hope of redemption. With his retort worded in such a manner, it was obvious that he already plucked and knew more than he anticipated squeezing out of Vergil. He didn't care what he managed to scoop from the cobwebs of his brain; his main priority was to get away from him as quickly as possible and get home. Vergil stood and turned, aiming a lucrative warning to the man in charge with their amulets reacting similar to the day he was tasked to look after the human. "Everything is going fine, Dante. Just fine."

The younger stuffed his hands in his pockets; Dante read between enough lines in his lifetime to know that their conversation had officially ended; however, it wasn't in is blood to not have the last laugh. "Was that so hard?" Provoking him wasn't on his to-do list but he couldn't resist the urge – his smirking shadow speedily dissolved into a cloud of red smoke missing another one of Vergil's evil sneers by the skin of its teeth. The man in blue exhaled deeply and continued on to the till with frightening calm, thankful that he had made it through the most stressful part of his day without a hitch. He made a mental note to stop at the alcohol store before heading home.

Vergil was thankful that the day was over, vowing to never step foot out of his house ever again: too many people, too many choices, too many decisions, too many disruptions, too many in its entirety of stuffs he didn't like and wasn't used to. The front door to his home had not been more inviting but the smells and sounds coming from inside were far from usual. Was Nero cooking?

He stepped through the door and found out in the most haunting way that the answer was yes, but the sight before him didn't reflect a skilled cook in action: two deep pots sat on the stove slowly bubbling away, countless chopped and whole vegetables scattered across the countertop, concentrated pastes and spices mixed together and thickening in a bowl, and the cleanest murder scene splattered on the ground. The copious amounts of blood staining the kitchen floor caused his stomach to drop to the deepest depths of the Underworld in search for its owner; dropping the bags of groceries to his feet, he clumsily staggered through the house following the trail to the guest bathroom they shared. Big, crimson handprints decorated the boring cream walls detailing his dizzy trip to the bathroom, the blood dripping from each following imprint becoming thicker and heavier owing to his blood loss.

Vergil broke the door off its hinges and spared no time to interrogate a drained Nero lying in the bathtub close to death – his skin held no colour, his body held no human positioning, his eyes grasped no life; nothing about the scene in front of him suggested that Nero was alive. He had lost too much blood for Vergil to heal him without possibly life-threatening repercussions; awkwardly climbing into the bath, he latched onto Nero's body and teleported him to the hospital for better treatment. His corpse hung lifelessly against his chest as they traversed across countless towns at lightning speed, arriving at the establishment and praying Nero wouldn't have to wait for an available spot to be looked over.

He walked through the glass sliding doors cradling him in his arms; the reception area was empty except for the staff doing heavy piles of paper work and all of their heads turned as he walked up to the desk. The sweat from his brow burned in his eyes and caused them to water, obscuring his vision and grabbing everyone's attention in the area. "Can you please help him?"

All of the nurses in the vicinity ran in different directions acquiring the apparatus they would need to assist Vergil. "What happened?" The head nurse was at his side feeling for a pulse. As she did, more blood spouted from a wound Vergil hadn't seen before: peeling back the fingers of Nero's right hand, the nurse removed a ravaged tomato to reveal a deep cut straight through his palm. It wasn't something to worry about, but the time that was allowed for the wound to bleed out was hazardous. She looked up at the patient's pale skin and believed bringing him here was the only decision he had.

"I don't know. I wanted to get him here as fast as I could-"

Another nurse arrived with a metal gurney and Vergil laid him down gently. Looking at his clothes caked in blood, it became increasingly difficult for him to breathe. "No worries my dear. He's the only patient today, so I'll make sure he has the best hands taking care of him."

The burning truth about getting injured in Hell lied in the power and race of the wounded; being human played heavily against the man currently fighting for his life as it was considered the weaker race – it was a known fact the species faded out quickly owing to the receding level of support they received from the place as a whole. Regardless of his outward strength and willing determination to live, the chances were relatively slim Nero would make it. She joined the rest of the nurses as they wheeled him to the nearest operating room.

Vergil's stomach dropped a little further watching him disappear behind a pair of grey sterile swinging doors, becoming slightly angry at the thought of him not surviving whatever they had to do to get him back to full health. His body did a full three-sixty, gazing out of the exit and cursing at the normality of life carrying on without a hitch; his heavy breathing from rushing through the ordeal added to the growing frustration in his mind that seemingly faded to nothing when the true reality of the situation came to view – Nero was going to die. He looked around the room for something to break before taking a sanitary seat and doing the one thing he hated doing more than anything – wait.


	7. He did say not to do anything stupid

Vergil sat in a chair next to Nero's bed after his surgery.

He remained calmly in the waiting area as one of the nurses returned in full scrubs and an indifferent look on her face. She removed her face mask and let her hair down before facing him, giving him a tired nod and confirming Nero was alive and on the road to a full recovery. "There wasn't enough human blood in storage for a transfusion, so we added a few millilitres of synthetics to make up for what he lost. A few stitches were enough to repair the tissue in his hand, so all he needs now is some... rest..."

Vergil was staring at her blankly. "He's fine?"

"Perfectly fine." He blinked and his face resumed something remotely human as he stood and walked to her with the smallest of smiles; she led him to Nero's room, stopping at the door and looking through the small square glass window set into every one of them. "He is calling for you; the shock hasn't come out of his system, so please be nice."

He seemed smaller under the bunched-up blankets his body clung to, his chest rising and falling at the proper pace. The colour made its way back into his face and he already looked much better than he did when they entered the hospital. Nero looked peaceful, all scrunched up in the middle of the beeping machines monitoring his vitals and keeping him stable. "How else do you know me?"

With an encouraging touch to his arm, she disappeared down another corridor out of sight. Pushing through, the room was bleached floor to ceiling with the worst smelling cleaning detergent strong enough to send his toughest enemies into a hallucinogenic coma. Instinctively, Vergil almost tapped at the steel tray at the end of his bed to signal his current location; grabbing a lonely chair in one corner of the room, he brought it in Nero's line of vision – folding his leg underneath him as he sat – and watched him miserably. Vergil's eyes never left his sleeping form, quelling the itching impulse to touch him to feel the warmth of his own soul work its way through his body and wake Nero so he could strangle him properly for his stupidity.

The blankets were drawn up to Nero's neck with his heavily bandaged forearm sticking through the top. It hadn't obscured his view of the teen's face, and when he opened his eyes for the first time he felt two daunting holes being burned into his face. "I know what-"

"No, you don't."

Nero kept his eyes to the mattress. "Can I just-"

"No, you can't." Vergil shifted closer to the bed keeping his voice painfully low – he laced his fingers that shook in rage at the entire day as a whole. "I really don't want to hear anything from you." He was in no mood to have Nero get all soppy and emotional in public, even though there was probably the most logical explanation to the entire situation. "There is absolutely no way for your tiny mind to fully comprehend what has been going through my head for the past five hours and somehow know what I'm going to say without me knowing. So save it."

Nero was stubborn as Hell when it came to defending himself but even more so protecting his subconscious from Vergil's ridicule – the direct message of wanting him to rest instead of wasting his breath was a distant concept for the teen, desperately needing the other man to listen to him. He stuck his left hand out from under the covers and shifted all of his weight to the right side of his body, immediately causing immense pain to his injured hand which he unequivocally ignored. "I swear it was an accident."

"I believe that." Vergil's voice cracked under the pressure of equal parts ire and relief as he went for the outstretched hand, being careful with the two thick tubes protruding from it. Nero discernibly relaxed at Vergil's touch and smiled at how careful he was being to not tamper with anything that may obstruct his recovery. He looked at the hand, cold and pale, and rubbed it between his own trying to give it some warmth; the sheer helplessness since arriving home put him in an uncomfortable position where he found it difficult to separate himself from the emotions brought upon under such stress. For a long time he had managed to operate under no regard for his own life, but now that another one came into play, the sudden environment of not having control over another's well-being unsettled him in ways he couldn't explain. Vergil halted his endeavour and looked at the fragile man on the bed, somehow feeling responsible for the new scar he had to carry with him. It took a couple of minutes for Nero to fall into a deep sleep, where the man on the chair still held fast on the hand that grew limp each passing second, not wanting to let go.

For what appeared like many hours later, the head nurse gave him the go ahead to take Nero home, handing over a brown paper bag filled to the brim with medication. "Instructions are written on a piece of paper inside. It's mostly painkillers for the stitches, but the blood transfusion might cause a number of infections and diseases to slip through the cracks. Make sure he eats well and get his strength up before operating any heavy machinery or doing work stressful to his body. Feed him lots of carbs and sugar for the next few days and he'll be right in no time. Keep an eye on him tonight, just to be sure."

Vergil grabbed the bag cautiously, balancing it against the lumber of flesh and bone about to lose his balance at any moment. Nero was high on the dose of morphine they administered to last the trip home; with one hand, he tried to yank his arm loose to dance around the waiting area, but the vice grip on his shoulder caused pain in all his attempts and he eventually gave up, sticking his tongue out at his caretaker. With a sad smile he said, "Thank you again."

In a flash they were home; the kitchen was still in its makeshift-murder state as Vergil left it and promised to clean up after getting Nero tucked in and resting for the rest of the night. The morphine dose burned away quicker than he had anticipated as he slumped in pain on his bed, where the demon more than warily pulled the covers over him and folded the blankets around the outline of his body. Fetching a long glass of freezing cold water, he set the correct amount and variety of pills on the dresser next to him. "You only need to take this when the morphine completely wears off. If you wake up in the middle of the night in pain, you take them – do you hear me?"

Nero contently cuddled under the familiar sheets as the confined heat quickly put him at ease where he nodded against his pillow. "Get some sleep and I'll see you in a bit; I want to give the kitchen a good scrub."

"The nurse said-"

"I know exactly what she said." Seeing an open spot at the end of the bed, Vergil tucked the covers underneath Nero's feet preserving all the warmth his body was able to provide. "The OCD in me can't stand to have your blood doused in my kitchen."

He made his way out of Nero's room, hating his heightened sense of hearing. "Why? You scared of blood?"

He was able to ignore the question entirely, purposely moving the table an inch and making a deep, resounding noise that travelled all the way to Nero's bedroom. Vergil kept the door open for the pure purpose that it was easier to explain one broken door. _'If only you really knew, Nero…'_

Standing in the centre of his kitchen not really feeling up to cleaning three different types of stains, it was as if the gods were on his side when a soft knock came from the front door and he knew straight away that his younger brother was on the other side. Ever since they were younger, they shared an inexplicable twin bond that went beyond the teachings and logic of science: they would get a sense of the other, a feeling of sorts, that would compel them to seek one another out and investigate the situation – such was the instance, where Vergil's mind was an unreadable blur and a benign voice at the back of Dante's head would alert him that not all was good with his twin.

Vergil would never admit it, but seeing his brother's face was something he didn't know he needed. Coming equipped with two tubs of vanilla ice cream, fresh strawberries and strawberry syrup and something else hidden in a plastic bag at his waist, Dante waited patiently for the front door to slam in his face; when no such action came, he moved swiftly into the dining room and located two glass bowls from the kitchen cupboards and dished it out accordingly, perplexed at the supposed funk his brother was going through.

A quick snap of his fingers and the kitchen was restored to its previous glory – the walls, the stove, the countertops, the dishes; all spotless, as well as the groceries finding their own places in the fridge and cupboards respectively. Vergil let out a deep sigh and took a seat across Dante who had speedily chopped up some strawberries and scattered them all over his ice cream. The red-clad demon waited for his brother to speak as he drenched his bowl in syrup, yet gave up on the idea in the same breath. "You wanna talk about it?"

Vergil moved the ice cream aside to rest his elbows on the table. Exhaustion was kicking in, and although seeing his brother twice in one day was the last thing on his mind, he welcomed the casual chit chat he dragged along with him. "There's nothing to talk about."

"The hospital called-"

"And what exactly did they say?"

Dante had stuffed a tablespoon of strawberry sundae into his mouth. "Good things-" he began, speaking as the brainfreeze distorted his face, "-ahnd bahd."

Vergil saw how happy Dante was and gave up on resisting his bowl, pulling it toward him and loving the soothing, cool, creamy texture as it trekked to his stomach. "I was on my best behaviour-"

"Not with you, with Nero." The younger plunged back in, taking a smaller spoon of dessert and swirling it into every recess of his mouth. "It's the blood story that's got them worried."

"He's strong enough to work it out of his system."

The response came so evenly from Vergil that his brother was close to believing him. There was a long silence between the twins, interrupted solely by their stainless steel cutlery lapping up every last morsel of ice cream. "Look, I know you're doing your best to protect him-"

"I know he's capable of dealing with whatever it is when the time comes – if push comes to shove I will gladly step in and throw him through any wall of his choice and break any bone he needs breaking. For the moment he needs to focus on getting better."

Logical Vergil, as always: wanting to complete one goal at a time instead of killing two birds with one stone. Who was he kidding; there was more than enough time to waste in prudently carrying out menial tasks than to hasten an outcome that would be much better enjoyed at a later stage – the tone in his voice, however, inferred that they had all the time in the world to solve an unknown problem, as if the numerous days that had flown passed didn't count in his punishment. "So you don't think it's best to drive it out while he's already going through the pain?"

"We don't know what the 'it' is, Dante. It's pointless to jump the gun and put him in serious danger."

"You're being irrational about this-"

"I'm being human about it."

"Vergil, I understand you don't want to lose him-"

"This is not about me." He kept his eyes on his half-finished bowl, not providing Dante with the opportunity to deduce whether or not he was lying. Most of his dessert had melted and pooled to the bottom, so it gave him a good excuse to focus his energy in bringing it back to life: he held the bowl in his hands and slowly refroze the cream, remembering the last time he had done so on the roof and giving Nero the fright of his life. "You gave me the job to look after him and that's what I'm doing."

Dante stopped fussing with his treat. "So you're saying it's just a job?" On cue, Vergil remained frozen with the bowl in his hands. "You know how many days have passed since I gave you this 'job'? Because if it is as you say, you should be counting the days until you have your freedom back." The smugness was dripping at the corners of his mouth, begging for a good enough comeback from his older brother. "You haven't done that; not once."

Contrary to the tone used by Dante, Vergil found his comment painstakingly humorous. He set the freezing bowl in front of him and covered half of his face, guilty that he was laughing at such a worrying time. "Are you're so bored with your perfect life that you've resorted to spying?"

"No," he joined in at the ridiculousness of it all, "but the link we share is stronger thanks to the piece of my soul that courses through your veins."

He used the cold tip of his spoon to playfully poke at the mark on his chest, making Vergil flinch at the personified weirdness that was his brother. It had been eons since they had a moment like this; their immature silliness making them forget their respective roles of serial killer and king of the Underworld and allowing them to rekindle their irrefutably cute hate for each other. Dante longed to see the sparky side of his brother emerge at some point, and what a time he had picked to try and cheer him up. "He will make it, Dante."

"I have to think of every possibility – you know how it can get."

"Then believe in the outcome where everything turns out okay." He lost his appetite as his bowl warmed from its previous blizzard attack and he passed it to Dante who was moping over finishing his portion too fast.

He gave it a confident look of disdain as he reached across the table for more fruit and syrup; the vanilla by itself wasn't sweet enough. "Do you believe that?"

"Not in the slightest." It amazed him how much Dante could squeeze into that tiny stomach of his. "I have to respect that I have no say in how he chooses to run his life if his new potential power arrives, but I do know him enough to know he will make the right choice in what's best for him."

"What happens if you're part of that-"

Dante saw something click in his mind that had him feverishly scurrying around the kitchen. "Hearing it from you… just made it more improbable." Forgetting how quick Vergil was, his brother got mid-level whiplash trying to keep up with what he was trying to do. Knowing full well that saying anything would fly over his head, Dante concentrated like his life depended on it and flicked himself painfully in the head, breaking Vergil's train of thought mid stride. "That must have hurt."

Blinking away tears, he held the empty cold bowl to his forehead not realising his own strength. "What are you doing?"

"Nero hasn't eaten all day."

The younger brother pulled out the earlier plastic bag from under the table. "No worries – got him covered too." He peeled back the plastic to reveal a gigantic tub of steamy goodness that smelt like heaven. "Humans like chicken soup, don't they? Apparently it's really soothing."


	8. What was left unsaid

Dante stalked through the big ornate bronze doors that swung open upon his presence. He briskly walked the expanse of his chamber before entering through numbers of doors and reaching his hidden bedroom, locked away from the many prying eyes of the general public. He hung up his coat and set his amulet on top of the set of drawers next to his bed, its glowing centre fading slightly at the loss of contact from its owner. Heading to his makeshift study in one corner of the room, he located a dusty, weathered book that had not been touched in what seemed like a few centuries – this was the guide that he was meant to read and become accustomed to before his first day in office, but rather opting to 'wing it' and handle things with his own sense of flair left the book collecting more dust than was originally intended.

The book landed on his desk with a flat thud with clouds of dust escaping from its pages. Making himself comfortable in the padded office chair, he heaved the covers open to find the index and jotted down specific page numbers and got to work: the more he read, the more out of place Vergil's hypotheses seemed, and the more farfetched the ideas became, farther than any reasoning fit for existence. Turning to the final page, the name of the demon appeared at the top left hand corner above a sketch of a handsome yet bizarre looking creature; the next page listed all of the crimes against his name and documented abilities that made him one of the most feared demons for centuries. As a quirk for himself alone, he paged back on his notepad to check the spelling of the name, making sure it correlated with one the hospital had given him.

Vergil moved the soup to a microwavable container and set it to the highest setting, watching it bubble away under inhuman levels of radiation and heat. Looking to Nero's door he could swear he heard random voices coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, and slowly coming to the realisation that the teen could have turned on his TV; that meant he wasn't sleeping and that implied he wasn't resting, bring the acids in his stomach to a boil similar to the food he was warming.

Upon entering his room the speakers of the TV hummed softly as a movie played across the screen and a transfixed Nero glued his eyes to the scene playing out in front of him. "I thought I told you to get some sleep."

"And you said you'd be back in a bit." His back was flat against the wall making the entire other half of his bed empty for whatever spot Vergil wished to occupy. His eyebrows furrowed as the steam soaked into the rest of his senses, sitting upright and letting the cold air in. "What's that smell?"

The demon stood at the door holding a tray with the finished product watching Nero's face soften at his comprehension: the smile seemed out of place in contrast to the arm that hung limply at his side, and the loud rumble coming from his stomach could not have been more perfectly timed. Nero slotted the picture in his head and got into position for his meal. "How do you know it's for you?"

"Because you had enough ice cream to last you an hour and you tend to not overdo it when it comes to the human stuff." Nero pointed to his lap, urging him on. "Plus, you hate warming things – the microwave gave you away."

Vergil breathed a heavy sigh as he laid the liquid meal across Nero's prepared lap, moving the spoon to the correct side for his left hand to manhandle it as he so pleased. Grabbing the messed up Rubix cube on his bedside table, he perched on a lone metal chair in the corner of the room adjacent to his chest of drawers, wanting more than anything to take his mind and line of vision out of watching Nero slurp his food. The whirlwind of events presented on this day could not have been the total opposite of what Vergil had predicted; there was no logical route to pin the happenings of today on himself – he thought he was doing Nero a favour in giving him some space, and here he resorted back to the old version wanting to do things for him. No one asked for that.

He placed the tray on the bed next to him. "You still not gonna talk to me?"

Vergil wished he could see the seething glare he gave him; he probably did, owing to the fact that he refused to look in his direction and kept his eyes on the TV. "That's fine. I get it-" He flinched at having to use his bad hand to grab his medication and water, and Vergil's eyes narrowed at his brain pleading with the rest of his body to help the injured man. "Just do me one favour: come lie with me. I can't get comfy anywhere on this damn bed, but it helps if there is another person here. If I don't get comfy I know I don't feel safe and having someone close by kinda helps." Nero leaned on his good hand and looked toward the direction of the plastic blocks being manipulated. "I won't ask you for anything else ever again."

That was a bad deal, seeing as this was the first time he had ever asked for anything involving the demon. The second he heard the weight lifting from the chair, he lay on his side and smoothed out the sheets next to him. Vergil got rid of the tray and set it on a small table just outside his room – removing his jacket and hanging it at the back of the chair, he reluctantly moved to the bed and climbed in facing the wall. Nero's bed was horrendously softer than his own, so he moved closer to the centre where his large build would be at equilibrium with the rest of the Underworld. He looked at the tiny space occupied by his housemate who didn't mind being squashed in the least; Vergil wrapped the blankets all around the teen's body ensuring that the cold wall behind him played no role for the duration of the night. As he bunched up the material between them – forming the last part of the makeshift nest – Nero unexpectedly grabbed him by the arm and placed it on his pillow, lying his head on the crook of Vergil's elbow. Deciding not to fight it, he pulled him closer to his body to throw the remaining piece of blanket behind him.

He patiently waited for Vergil to feel uncomfortable. "You can still watch the movie, ya know?" The interest in what was playing plummeted to a new low when Nero snuggled into his chest, burying his face in the soft material of his shirt. "You see, you don't really need eyes to watch a movie – the greatness lies in being able to see without seeing. All good movies have the ability to move you and keep your attention without having to open your eyes at all." He smiled into the human cocoon he constructed, relishing the knowledge of finally getting a good night's sleep. "Become immersed in the characters and their feelings and emotions; become bound with the decisions they make and the consequences they face; feel what they feel at any given moment; and when it's all over, remain empty for days until your brain forces itself to makes sense and you can carry on with daily life. You should try it."

For the briefest of moments, Vergil caught him gazing upward; their eyes met and Nero immediately looked away – how he knew the demon was looking back at him would astound many generations to come, but for now his only priority was enabling the best environment for a safe recovery for his roommate. Being this close to Nero consoled him for feeling so detached during the hours that had passed and he couldn't help but admit that having him in his arms brought an undeniable sense of calm that was needed to cap off what was a ridiculously lousy day. He, however, wasn't skilled in the art form that was human intimacy and the thoughts that plagued his mind were of no use in this situation; with his forearm now free, he took the chance in playing with the baby hairs at the hairline of Nero's neck and relaxed his other hand on the small of his back attempting to sooth his philosophical antics so late at night. Instinctively, he rested his cheek on the soft head of hair below, breathing in the peachy aroma that tinged his blonde locks. He'd blame it on being comfortable and nothing more. "Sleep, Nero."

He sighed deeply and Vergil felt his warm breath ghost the scar on his chest. "I just wanted to make dinner – to say thank you for everything."

"I know." Vergil felt an inhumane ache in his ribcage; it was a sweet gesture that took one wrong, deadly turn and he wasn't beyond rational in seeing the intent behind it, but what really bugged at his sanity was that Nero had tried to prove that he was no different from any other when in Vergil's eyes nobody came remotely close. There were moments so infuriating that he curbed the urge to slit his throat in one strike and other moments, similar to the one now, where the card at play was simply enjoying one another's company. He tried not to dwell on the latter too much for the sake of common sense, yet he lived for moment he could flip the logical switch in his head and just be. "You should than your lucky stars I'm not strangling you right this moment."

Nero hadn't noticed how warm Vergil was until now, taking advantage of the cosy twist to his night. "Is death your answer to everything?"

"Only when it concerns you." Not grasping how tired he was, Vergil unknowingly sank deeper into the bed, making himself comfortable between the sheets and shuffling closer, indirectly imposing Nero's bubble.

The pain in his arm followed a steady decline the deeper he fell; his hand contentedly landed against Vergil's beating heart, and the soft vibrations through his shirt soothed the ache underneath the bandage. Nero's eyes slid closed and breathed in his scent, the allure alone making his eyelids heavy. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Vergil stood at the edge of the bed closest to Nero's feet. He would feel bad for having to wake him from a possible life-changing slumber, but he had been sleeping through the better part of the day and he was well aware of the effect little nutrition had on the teen: cranky, late-onset pubescence was something he could definitely do without and something he would wish to prevent rather than cure. As he began to kick the base of the bed, he noticed the skin of his arm had adopted a bluish tinge since the night before and Dante's words replayed in his head for the thousandth time since their conversation – the blood was quickly making its way through Nero's system and tampering with his DNA, but the physical changes was something he had yet to experience for himself.

Vergil spoke softly from the threshold. "Are you hungry?"

Nero pulled the covers off with the bandaged hand and rubbed his face from the dead. "I could eat."

"Can I change your bandages first?"

The painkillers he took in the middle of the night somehow erased the memory of him having a fatal wound. "Please. They're really itchy." He scratched at the blue skin with no reaction other than pure relief – no signs of sensitivity or discomfort. "But the pain from yesterday is completely gone."

Subtlety was never Vergil's strong suit: he wrenched him from his bedroom and sat him down at the edge of the bath, cautiously and hastily removing the cloth to confirm the irksome suspicion his brother had planted in his head. Surely enough, what stared him in the face made him believe Dante knew much more than he had initially lead on: the navy blue colour travelled all the way up his forearm and was slowly reaching the bend in his elbow; his fingers and palm both began glowing a paler shade of the cerulean skin as peculiar cracks started forming down his wrist; the tips of his fingers altered to sharp talons to complete the overall daunt to his new arm. The cut itself was nowhere in sight. "You're sure that you feel absolutely nothing?"

"Nothing – like I got a new arm overnight."

Nero was over the moon at his recovery, getting fidgety as Vergil applied new bandages for the sole reason of making him believe there was still something wrong; at some point the material would rip to shreds owing to the possible armour that would be growing in its place and he made a mental note to break the news to him the further along the process was. He tucked the end in and stood, giving Nero a hard hit to his shoulder. "I'm going to catch a head start before you eat all the pancakes."

Vergil was already making his way to the dining room. "Pancakes?"

He did as he was told and followed the varying aromas twirling inside his house. It took Nero a good five seconds to hone in on the pancakes, taking his seat directly in front of them; they were fresh out of the pan, butter melting and drizzling over the sides of the tower Vergil had constructed. The demon managed to slug three blueberries and two maples before his housemate made it to the table, so they were all up for grabs. Nero stuck his fork into it and dragged four onto his plate, digging in while Vergil cautiously drizzled maple syrup when the teen's hands were occupying the hole in his face. He sat back and observed him stuff down number five from above the rim of a coffee mug. "How do you get them to taste like this?"

He cuddled the mug and soaked the heat into his hands. "Mom's recipe – I used to watch her make them every morning." Vergil replaced it on the table and leaned in, recalling the moments he stole from his childhood. "We got the special ones for our birthday, when she used to stuff them with a thicker type of custard so it wouldn't ooze out. She would prepare the batter a day before allowing it to thicken in the fridge overnight so it would hold firm against the yellowy insides; she'd call my brother and me just before it was ready and when we sat down she would flip them onto our plates and make smiley faces in sweetened whipped cream and sprinkles on top." He loved to catch his mother off guard when she wanted to surprise them. Regrettably, Vergil was an amazingly light sleeper and the sound of a pin dropping would wake him a heartbeat. His mother would then send him back to bed and ask him to pretend for it to be a surprise with his younger brother – their mutual smiles always warmed his cold heart and it was an image he would carry with him until he ceased to exist. Whenever that may be. "I've tried many times, but the custard never reached the correct consistency, so I've opted for the boring version."

He retreated to the kitchen as number six disappeared to be digested by Nero's stomach. "You call this boring?"

"Compared to what my mother used to make, very much so." Vergil returned with the coffee pot and refilled their mugs, happy that the other was eating to his hearts' content. Nero reminded him of Dante and how they both managed to squeeze bucket loads of food into such slender, lean bodies. "Did you have any sort of tradition for that type of thing?"

Nero stopped midway in sliding half of a pancake into his mouth; his face suddenly dropped in colour, a melancholy overshadowing the peak of happiness that he was in a few seconds ago. He slowly lowered it to his plate as he shuffled his chair closer to the table. Opening his eyes wide, he cleared his throat, and Vergil instantly knew this was a topic he chose to avoid for the duration of his stay. Something about the way his body slouched at the mention of his past hit a sore nerve and he was afraid to find out why. "We never celebrated my birthday."

"May I ask why?" Vergil awaited a typical teenage response and couldn't think you any in his head.

Nero masked the grief with a futile smile on his lips, but its inauthenticity forced his eyes into his lap. He knew Vergil would see right through his attempts at seeming okay so he avoided his stare entirely. "I don't know when it is."

Vergil halted mid sip and was tempted to call his bluff, but his impulse was tersely quelled owing to the new shade of pale his face had adopted; Nero felt uncomfortable at the morose silence following his confession and scratched at the piece of exposed skin between the useless bandage – whether or not he could feel it was another story for another day, and it was clear that what was happening bothered him. It was a miserable thought, but Vergil was thankful that the man across from him couldn't see his face; the interest in his past took a wrong turn for both of them, and the regret that laced Nero's features were bright as day. "Nero, I didn't mean to-"

"I know. I know." He pushed his chair to leave the table and Vergil mistakenly followed suit, wanting to calm the obvious storm he had brewed inside the younger man only to be hindered by a single hand in his direction. The dejected smile took most of his human energy, desperately needing some space before he became an emotional rollercoaster that was too much for the demon to handle. "Thanks very much for breakfast." Nero went into his room and bolted it from the inside.


	9. Thirst for curiosity is never satisfied

Nero was brought in by two heavily armoured demons for his own safety. If word got out that a human had chosen the fiery depths of the Underworld directly opposing entry to Heaven as a given, they would be over him like a pack of hungry wolves to a sheep, devouring his clean soul in less than two heartbeats. His folder was sturdy in his hands as he fulfilled the request to see the man in charge: it was standard protocol when unusual requests made their way through the damned grapevine.

Dante stood in the middle of the room in his signature red coat, wondering how the fragile form in front of him would last a day in this realm. His amulet shone proudly on his chest, glistening in contrast to the solemn ambiance of his predicament. "Nero, is it?"

The teen stood still as his eyes wandered the room, taking in every ounce of detail his memory would allow. He was now certain he was in Hell; he could see the flames and personified death against the walls, the lives of the undead flourishing into worse versions of themselves, and the stench of defeat and loneliness overcame all five of his senses. His head shot up at his name, interrupting his thoughts and settling upon the glowing red gem on Dante's chest. "Why can I see you clearly?"

Dante knew the answer, but played coy to find out more about the individual. "What do you mean?"

He dropped his backpack and paperwork at his feet and sped toward Dante, grabbing hold of his hands. "I entered those gates without my eyesight. I made the journey here in pure darkness. For three years, it's been pitch black. How am I seeing you?"

He chuckled at Nero's fascination with the confusion behind it all and at the broad smile on his face as he took his surroundings in. "The immense power radiating in and around this room has the ability to restore any being within its confines back to their original state; a matter of equalling the playing field, so to speak. This room is used for the final judgement of tormented souls – impure souls – who have committed obscene crimes against the rule of peace between realms. To prevent any unlawful judgement based on bias this room cleanses each guilty party from any obscenities unjust to them so as not to be used in court as a viable excuse of a current crime. It may sound silly, but the life forms here would do and say anything to punish anyone without proper means. Included in the package is the temporary immunity of disability. Step outside of those doors and it goes back to black."

As he spoke, Dante walked to the opposite end of the room and led Nero to his throne, urging him to take a seat. He knelt down at the foot of the enormous chair and gazed deep into Nero's baby blues. "Now my turn to ask you some questions: why are you here?"

He kept his stare and took a deep breath, gathering courage to tell his story. "Can I start from the beginning? I've been practicing."

"You can start wherever you like. I have time. Omit specifics and emotions if need be." Dante sent a caring, reassuring smile Nero's way, and the sentiment behind it was more than what he needed to power through the explanation he dreaded to recount. The man below detected his angst and gave his calf a soothing squeeze, generating a laugh from above.

"There isn't much to tell, but it starts like every other tragedy, right? The future of a twelve year old orphan wasn't as bright as the younger, and the hope of getting adopted diminishes with every year you remain one. An unknown couple comes in and adopts me on their first visit – which usually isn't a good sign – and I was reluctant to go with them because wanting to start out with a child old enough to reject their personal influence could only mean one thing, and that was needing an extra punching bag. The owner insisted that I change my mind and go with them, so that's exactly what I did. My new mom was really nice, but her husband didn't like that all of her attention was concentrated on me, and he wasn't shy in showing it either." Nero scrunched his face to the side, holding back tears and choosing not to look at Dante for this part of the story. "Fast forward to when I was fifteen, my mom and I were in a horrific car crash where she lost her life and I lost my sight. Unfortunately for me, I had to live with a man who blamed me every day for her death; as a result he had enough of me and beat me up, killing me in the process. Now I'm here to greet him when he makes his way down here, hoping my face would haunt him as much as his does mine." Tears were now streaming down his face out of unadulterated fury. "Does that suffice?"

"Somewhat, but it's a hefty price you are paying to see someone so insignificant suffer."

"It'll be worth it." He stood from the chair and sat next to Dante on the small staircase. "Everything that will happen to me while I bade my existence here will be worth knowing his life is a living hell."

In all honesty, he had heard crazier reasons why the dead chose to carry out the rest of their afterlives down below and this hadn't come close. It was the classic tale of the freezing cold serving of plain old sweet revenge – he'd be lying if he thought it wasn't clever in wanting to see it unravel and share a hearty laugh with Nero over a crammed-crust pizza. Dante pursed his lips and placed his chin on his knees, focusing too hard on getting his upper lip to touch the bottom of his nose. "If you intend on doing anything to him-"

"I don't; I intend for the wonders of karma to take its course on his life as I listen to the sweet sound of his agonising screams whilst learning to cook ramen noodles."

He met Dante's legendary side-smirk with equal verve as he took an undoubtedly strong elbow to the ribs. "I was going to end my sentence with 'let me know I'll hook you up' but your plan sounds better. Not the ramen part though; that by-product is really unforgiving this low to the earth's core." Nero reminded him of a much younger, rebellious, stronger, and wiser version of himself; in many ways they were different but it would be stupid to ignore how vastly similar they were, even counting in their physical features. Dante took a liking to the boy and more than anything he wanted him to succeed in the life he chose; the all-important aspect of him being human was a huge downfall as many of Hell's underlings could sniff him out from miles away. His brilliant brain conjured up a plan to keep him out of harm's way, but convincing the other fifty percent to bear with it was going to be a trying task… or was it? "I'll find you a safe place for now. I can't guarantee your emotional well-being will remain intact, but you will be well protected."

The folder materialised from one side of the room to his hands; opening it, he immediately noted it missing one piece of paper that should have traversed alongside Nero when he died – his birth certificate. The absence of the document signified that one wasn't made out for him at the time of him being born and also that the orphanage he belonged to took no responsibility in having one made for him, meaning they had no hope of him becoming part of a family. He had no option but to place him in the hands of the only person he trusted more than himself.

Nero was aware of the dangers of his kind entering a place like this; he also knew that it would take lifting the earth off Atlas' shoulders to persuade someone with immense power to harbour a being that could put his individual welfare in jeopardy. "How are you gonna find someone like that?"

Dante watched the purple ball next to him and located the only two gold blobs in the entire sphere. They were both perfectly still – the Underworld meaning for 'currently at home'. "I already have someone in mind."

Dante poured two more bourbons as he observed his brother from a safe distance; he had only seen Vergil portray two emotions in their entire lifetime, so what he faced now was a shock to his senses and intense curiosity as to where this third expression came from. "That's all I know. I wasn't going to pry further."

Vergil straightened as his glass was handed back to him – this time with no ice – and he savoured the burn enveloping the tender skin of his throat as he chugged the whole lot, dabbing the edges of his mouth with the tip of his sleeve. "I was doing everything right. You told me to do the opposite of what I'd usually do, and that's what I was doing-"

"You said one thing – how were you supposed to know?"

Vergil nearly dropped his glass at the confusing mix of emotions mingling in his chest. "You didn't see the look on his face, Dante." He couldn't go to Nero and suddenly reveal he knew all there was to him and apologise in the process, nor could he ignore the situation and carry on as normal. There was still too much behind the scenes that Vergil would have to flush out by himself. "I hope I never see it again."

Dante looked smug over the rim of his glass using the bourbon to hide a gloating sneer, biting his lip to contain his utter glee for the moment. "Vergil, give it up. The act isn't working."

He stared blankly at his empty glass and spoke in the most hushed tone Dante had only ever heard once before. "I don't know what to do, brother."

Dante wasn't in the particular mood to pat himself on the back, but he would never have this opportunity again. He gave his brother the knowing look they had shared for hundreds of years and the older softened, defeated in wanting to fight what they both knew. With the twinsanity trait under their belts, there was very little Vergil could hide from Dante and vice versa; like clockwork, they knew what made the other tick, seeing as they were essentially the same person most of the time. Dante had no need to read his mind to surf the same wavelength – demons in other dimensions could see it like spray-paint from that distance. "You don't think you owe it to yourself to admit what you feel for him?"

His arms hung loose around his physique, deciding not to argue with his brother on this one. "If I admit it, it becomes real."

"And what's wrong with that?"

The blue demon squared his jaw in admittance; the younger had made the point of the century, but he had been right too many times in the few short hours that passed. He walked over to where Dante stood, lowering his crystal tumbler onto the small bronze table where many bottles of alcohol were arranged numerically by potency. Grabbing his brother by the shoulders, he looked calmly into his eyes and voiced the words that would change everything. "Absolutely nothing – that's what makes it so scary." Vergil hurried to the exit, making sure to steal a quick glance at the calendar before leaving.

Dante knew, but he had to ask – for the hell of it. "Where are you going, Vergil?"

Vergil's deadpan face and voice added more character to his reply. "To make custard-filled pancakes; would you like some?"


	10. Letting go was the solution all along

Nero had spent most of the day in bed sleeping off his big breakfast and watching something good enough to erase the events of this morning. He gave up trying to deduce the time of day but guessed he had locked himself up for the sufficient amount of time allocated for moping and groaning, given the topic that caused his current distress. Some things in life were too complicated to mull over, risking the chance of stressing over things out of your control, or they were just not worth the time you spend thinking about different results and circumstances that factored into the overall outcome. The past was in the past, and he revelled in the chances he would get in his future; Hell wasn't the type of place for dreams to come true, but he knew deep down that anything was possible as long as he wasn't alone. Living with Vergil and the happiness it brought him equated to more than he had in his entire life up to this point; he was sure his performance after eating set them two steps back in their acquaintanceship and wanting to make it up to him already seemed like a horrible idea, given what happened last time.

Nero slowly lifted the covers and located his slippers on the floor, taking a deep breath and hoping Hell stored some invisible courage in the air he was now breathing. He moved to his door and grabbed for the handle, only to have it grasped from someone on the other side; Nero swiftly stepped away and barely missed getting hit in the face by the chunk of wood when an out of place delicate hand and voice reached for him. "Could I steal you for a second?"

He shyly nodded, letting Vergil lead him out of his room. "I'm still in my pjs."

"I couldn't care less."

The authority in his voice sent shivers down the teen's spine; most of the time the sternness was playful and sarcastic, empty threats at Nero's life and awkwardness in general, but the commanding undertone spoke of a switch that had turned off inside Vergil's brain, a dangerous signal in anybody's book. As much as he wanted to snub the concept, the new Vergil excited him. As he was taken to the dining room, the crushing smell of smoke hit his lungs unexpectedly; Nero impulsively tugged in the opposite direction from which they came, but a soothing squeeze to his hand quelled the worry growing in his frame. The heat came quickly as he sat at the table, confused now more than ever. "Please tell me what's going on before I scream."

There was another aroma, but the clouds of smoke hid it well. "Okay, now follow my voice and blow."

"Those words make no sense-"

"Do it." Vergil moved something on the table and the heat and ungodly smell got stronger. "Trust me."

He did as he was told, tilting his head to the side to take a mouthful of fresh air and blew at the general direction Vergil was in, and the odour with the miniscule heat disappeared. His senses were attacked by the smell of freshly-made confectionery, but what he did still made no sense. "What were those?"

"Candles." Vergil swished the smoke away from him. "Little bundles of wax that come in different shapes and sizes that have a wick in the middle which you set alight for people to blow out-"

"I know what candles are." The welcoming smell of chocolate hit his nasal cavity and he wanted more than anything for the pieces of his collected environment to not be true; it was very like and unlike Vergil at the same time - unexpected yet predictable; out of character yet so undeniably him that Nero had no choice but to go with it. "I've seen a few around."

A raised eyebrow was all the atmosphere needed. "Then did you make a wish like you were supposed to?" Vergil was a master at mingling his trademark disappointment with degrading sass, a flavour best savoured with the chocolate cake that was in front of him.

He grabbed one and lit it again, not needing an answer given Nero's facial expression. "I don't think I need to make one, Vergil."

It flew over his head.

He held the now burning candle at a safe distance. "You don't."

He still couldn't resist: following the unofficially altered protocol, Nero obeyed and made his wish while Vergil busied himself with picking the other six out of the brown frosting. He moved to the kitchen and grabbed a sharp knife, heating it on a flame on the gas stove and allowing it to reach the proper temperature for cutting the cake. Vergil felt really silly in going to all these lengths, but if there was ever a happy memory he believed everyone to possess and experience at least once was a decent birthday, even more so if the party included possessed no happy memories whatsoever. "I decided to give them one last try."

The smell invading his nose now made perfect sense. "The custard ones?"

"It must've known I was making it for someone else so they decided to play along."

After slicing the perfect slice and handing it over with an approved experimental pancake, Vergil passed him a fork and sat back in his seat wondering how he was going to do this. He seldom became nervous speaking to anyone, but the subject matter alone could lead to an unprecedented reaction from the man across the table, and the last thing he wanted was upsetting Nero twice in one day. As much as he wished to show that he didn't care, Nero's past had put a damper in him relishing the teens makeshift agony at any given time and even more so now that the topic of conversation upset him to the extent of leaving it unfinished altogether. Three deep breaths were not enough to suppress the building anxiety in his throat and as each second ticked by he drew closer and closer to crumpling the invisible speech sitting on the table in front of him.

Nero was well aware the sweets were there to shut him up until and in the duration he spoke, probably about the events at breakfast, but who was he to complain? He happily took a bite out of his slice, licking the edges of his mouth to claim all the frosted chocolaty goodness. If Vergil thought his contemplation went unnoticed, he would have to think again. "It wasn't your fault-"

Vergil's coffee mug hit the table unintentionally hard. "We all have our pasts that we wish we could forget, but it isn't that simple. It makes us who we are and it makes us want to achieve better than what we originally sought out to do, just to prove that we are much more than the insignificance we were taught to believe." He paused to watch him gobble on, pretending to not be phased by his words. "You're going to be here for an inordinate amount of time, Nero; time that you'll never get back and time you'll never be able to measure-"

Nero was obscenely uncomfortable in his chair staring at nothing in particular; with his fork raised halfway to his mouth he placed it down gently, lacing his fingers and fidgeting over the ledge of the table drawing Vergil's attention to his hands instead of his face. The beginning of his dialogue already implied that this was going to take a deeper and darker turn and he wanted nothing more than to hinder whatever rant Vergil had prepared for him. "Why are you telling me this?"

He spoke softly, but his toned, broad shoulders gave him away. When the teen made no attempt to relax, Vergil moved closer and gently snuck his hand between Nero's, breaking them apart and cradling them in his until he did so. "Don't do that. It makes me nervous."

Nero was taken aback by the sincerity in his voice; his words struck a chord deep inside him that he chose not to explain owing to embarrassment and he had to stop the older man quickly before all hell broke loose in his mind and he would dive into the corner dedicated to regret and self-loathing – the corner he had tried to avoid for three years. "If you're planning on getting emotional with this, I strongly suggest you stop right now because it's taking everything I have in me to stay in this chair."

Holding his hand gave him the perfect opportunity to observe the new layer of armour that grew in the small space of a few hours: the underlay of blue shone bright in contrast to the bloody red scales that had formed over it, converging on his forearm to form a line down the centre of his wrist that acted as a visual representation of his life force; it grew up to his knuckles and halfway on his thumb, opening at the base of his wrist to show his blue palm, and a rough spike of armour shielded his elbow. Vergil guessed that the new layer served as protection from exposure of the blue armour that did most of the work and harnessed the demonic power that now ran through Nero's veins. The rest of his arm had altered to a navy blue, pulsing with the blood that was used to heal him. His hair had taken a snowy turn just like his, and his natural roots were nowhere in sight; he assumed it was the hair dye that he had recently purchased, but those blonde traces had also vanished with the wind. The human side of him thankfully kept his eyebrows their natural colour, and it seemed that the overall physical change was complete. The influence wasn't all as bad as he anticipated; at least Nero still looked human.

Looking at his face he was snapped back to the reality of the situation. "The past is yours to make you stronger; the hand of cards that were dealt to you as a living being faded away when you stepped through those gates. Stop running – it won't solve anything. Whether or not you choose to waste this second chance is up to you, but having no control over what happened on the surface is the reason it's meant to be tossed aside, making space for innumerable other bad decisions to make while you're here." Vergil's usual spark of genius misinterpreted Nero's words to meaning the direct opposite of its intention, wanting to get his point across. "Looking back is the only thing obscuring your way forward-"

"And what does that way forward entail, Vergil?" Nero's scaly grip squeezed tighter, showing the menace in his tone was out of curiosity.

"Whatever the hell you want it to be." Vergil's thought was caught by a surprise yawn. "You need a clear head to survive in here, and it cannot be dampened by experiences that should by now mean nothing to you."

Nero shuffled closer to the table and held his hand tightly, moving his empty plate to the side. "The only reason I'm here is because they mean something to me-"

"Which would be what?" Vergil's reply was soft and calm, merely wanting to put his mind at ease from this morning. He sank deeper in his chair as the mental strain of the day kicked in, the information overload burning what energy he had left to face Nero and place his insecurities to rest. As strange as it seemed to him, the last of his remaining strength clung onto the teen sitting across from him. "They are worthless, Nero. You have nothing to prove to anyone."

"I have yet to prove it to myself, so I wouldn't count them as worthless just yet." Nero smiled the purest, innocent smile while playing with their intertwined fingers as if they were the best thing since his peanut addiction: he seemed to be in a much better mood than previously and Vergil wanted to keep it that way, whatever it took. The thought left an unfamiliar taste in his mouth - one he could see himself getting used to.

He was too busy being cute for his own good that he ignored his roommate's expiring will to stay awake. He made the next yawn as discreet as he could manage while the teen carried on the menial task of amusing himself with their hands. "Did you just think that up so we could stop talking about it?"

Nero took full control of one of his hands and ran a clawed finger into the grooves of his palm, nearly causing the ticklish demon to pull his hand away and shred it in the process. The action, however, didn't wake him from his sleepy haze. "That's the point of the afterlife, isn't it? To do things better than before, to become better and stronger – come to think of it I didn't have much of a life before this, so technically this isn't a second chance." The pale blue of his arm reacted to Vergil's demonic aura, unbeknownst to the teen. "It's the first chance at life that I will have."

How was he going to get through what he needed to say next? "I want you to have motivation - a goal to work toward to keep you going when-"

"I have one, Vergil."

He avoided Vergil's gaze through the confession, but could still feel his steel gaze at the top of his head. Something peculiar caught his attention while he passed over the supple skin at the top of his hand; four small imprints – which he narrowed down to two sets of teeth marks – nested between his middle and ring finger, and thumb and forefinger. Nero could write an essay on the countless possibilities explaining the bite, but that involved processing that his brain alone couldn't handle; he committed the dents to memory for when he needed that perfect distraction. "Your hands are surprisingly soft for the serial killer you say you are."

Nero could feel the power of Vergil's smirk on his fingertips. "Mass murderer – there's a distinct difference."

The teen was looking straight at him, seeing nothing and exposing everything at the same time. He valued Vergil's friendship more than he could have imagined at this small gesture; over the short amount of time he got to know him, this display was out of character, leading him to believe that a rooted change was happening inside of him and that Vergil was scared because of it. His train of thought derailed at the cutest sound Nero had ever heard, trying to imagine what it may have looked like – the demon paid no heed to masking it this time as a full wave of sleep encompassed his built frame. "I think you need some sleep."

"We are not done here." Vergil was in the middle of his umpteenth yawn. "And that one doesn't count."

"Then hurry up; your body can't stand being awake much longer."

"So now it's my fault I can't say what I need to say?"

The onset of fatigue had claimed its prey; the sudden hit of tiredness presents the demonic entity with very little reaction time to it, burning the right amount of energy to find a place to perch and then lights out for the rest of the night: Vergil had tried fighting it, not recognising the unfamiliar trance as it ultimately led to him needing to be dragged into bed as a dead weight. Nero had yet to experience sleepy, mumbling, nonsensical Vergil and it was something he predicted with equal parts awkwardness and silly horror added to the mix.

Nero stood and held tighter onto his hand, pulling him from his chair and leading him to his bedroom. The pull was heavier than normal, owing to the added array of confection in his tummy and the effect of tiredness that was slowly enveloping his body. Nero became a master at worming his way around their home and in no time they were at his bedroom door; he deftly opened it and pushed him though, leading him to his destination.

The voice in front of him slurred his words, talking in his sleep. "How were they?"

Nero took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack in his room, removing the amulet he always kept in the left breast pocket and setting it down on top of his bedside dresser. "Your mom would've been very proud." Vergil stood at the edge of his bed ready to climb in and collapse the second his head hit the pillow but his drowsy state made no way for the compliment to sink in properly. As he lay sprawled under his covers, Nero unexpectedly knelt down and ran his human hand through Vergil's hair, soothing the last traces of his alert state. "Don't ever think that who you are isn't enough, alright?"

After that came a small click, and after that came complete darkness with the small blue glimmer of the amulet in the corner of his eye.

 _It was late at night when they heard the first scream; a guttural, painful shriek that would haunt them well into the years if their adult life. Dante woke first, running over to his older brother for protection, waking him up from a dream of baskets of sweet treats and pale blue clouds of marshmallow. Vergil blinked frantically at the second scream – much closer than the first – and held a weeping Dante to his chest. They knew what was coming, but they had prayed they'd be spared the morning of their ninth birthday._

 _The younger brother clutched at the necklace his mother gave him for his eighth birthday as the sharp edges dug into his skin and cared nothing for the blood that seeped from his wounds. "Vergil, I'm scared."_

 _"Don't be, Dante. Everything is going to be okay."_

 _"You promise?"_

 _The front door of their house was blasted inward by an inescapable force and thirty or so hungry, maniacal demons washed through every crevice downstairs before slowly making their way up to snatch their prey. Their footsteps landed hard on each wooden step, cackling the closer they crept to every inhabitant's bedroom. "I promise."_

 _Luck was on their side tonight as they were still too young to have their demon powers triggered, so trying to locate them by their scent was going to be downright impossible for the invading attackers. Vergil moved quickly in shifting his bed to the side, revealing a trap door underneath his bed. He heaved it open and instructed his brother to climb in, leaving a tiny gap for him to breathe. "Hey! Where are you going?"_

 _"There are things that have to be done, Dante – stay quiet under there and don't lose mommy's present, okay? You'll be safe, I swear it."_

 _"Vergil, don't do this-"_

 _Their bedroom door opened while Vergil stood stubbornly in the centre, ready to fight his part of the makeshift battle that was to ensue. He softened as he saw his mother's face peek through, sneaking in without making the hint of a sound. "You need to hide, sweety."_

 _After seeing her face, Vergil busied himself in finding his half, located on the floor next to his bedside dresser. "I'm not leaving you to face these creatures alone, mother-"_

 _"They are coming for me; they have no business with you. They don't know you exist, and I'll be damned to Hell if they find you after all these years." Like a true mother, she looked around the room for her son, and knowing her other son, bent down and saw two tiny blue eyes pop out from under the bed. "How you doing, champ?"_

 _Dante replied in a broken voice. "Okay mommy. Vergil put me here, so I know I'll be safe." He sniffed, attempting to make himself believe the words that just left his mouth._

 _"That's my boy. Be quiet, this will all disappear soon. I love you."_

 _With a small nod Dante retreated further into the hole and she turned her attention to her eldest. "Listen to me, okay? It's going to be fine; when the time comes, your father will come through for you and teach you all you're going to need to know on the way forward. For now, I need you to trust me-"_

 _"I'm not going to watch you die-"_

 _"Rather me than all of us, my dear."_

 _From the other side of the door, the demons could be heard bashing down their mother's bedroom door, rummaging on and through every surface they could find. Vergil was rushed into the closet he and his brother shared; as she closed the door, he took hold of her arm with tears flowing from his icy blues. "You can't leave us."_

 _"I will never leave you, Vergil. I'll always be here. Always."_

 _With a parting kiss to his forehead, she caressed his cheek one last time and shut the doors, locking them for good measure. She turned and faced the door as it swung open, facing twenty angry salivating demons. "So this is where you've been hiding."_

 _The pack of hunters were too focused on the task at hand that they didn't bother questioning the two single beds in the separate bedroom. "I'm not hiding. This is just a prettier room to die in, that's all."_

 _"Indeed." The demons simultaneously drew their weapons and stalked closer to her. She backed herself into the only corner out of sight from her two children. A few of them disappeared from Vergil's view, and in that moment he knew his mother stood no chance of making it another day. He shrunk himself onto a tight ball on the wardrobe floor, balling a fist into his mouth and biting down hard to prevent any accidental noise escaping behind the wooden doors. The second line of monsters suddenly stopped in their tracks as his mother welcomed her inevitable death. "Any last words?"_

 _He could hear the blade reach her skin. His mind shifted to his brother hidden on the other side of the room, praying he had no full view of what was about to happen to their mother. The tears streamed down Vergil's face as he heard her utter her final words as a living human being. "Rot in Hell."_

 _"I'm sure your husband would love that." He covered his ears anticipating a blood curdling scream of pain and anger; instead the night was silent, flinching as demonic titanium steel slid through flesh-_

Vergil managed to hold the scream as he woke in a cold sweat, sitting straight up and catching the breath he had been holding for who knows how long. He gawked around his room in frenzy and threw the covers off his body as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, rubbing at his temples and telling himself to calm down. Vergil's heart raced at an alarming speed causing his hands to inadvertently shake beyond his control reaching for the glass of water on his nightstand that wasn't there.

Instead, his hand grazed the sharp edges of his blue amulet that should have been in the desk drawer – the power of the amulet possessed both good and evil traits and acted in accordance with the owner's subconscious: a clear mind brought a good night's rest, while jumbled brought despair-inducing, discomforting nightmares assured to keep you awake for as long as possible. Vergil angrily opened his drawer and threw it hard enough to reach the back, gliding over Nero's peanut brittle he had hidden ages ago. A noise at his bedroom door made him turn faster than he needed to; with a towel draped over his shoulder, jug of water and empty glass at hand, Nero waited for his permission to enter the room. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Does it matter?" His voice was soft as he made his way across the room, dodging every obstacle in his path and setting down the icy beverage on its supposed spot; something about his fluid movements told Vergil that this was known territory to him, but in the heat of the moment he didn't care. He bolted for the water and poured a glass in record time, gulping it down and relishing in the cold bringing reality back into place. He poured a second, not pausing to breathe. "Who's Dante?"

Vergil preoccupied himself with finishing his drink, wiping the sides of his mouth with his bare hand. "Why do you ask?"

"You kept saying his name, over and over again." Nero was standing directly opposite at a safe distance, assuming his roommate would want his space after his nightmare; he made himself comfortable on the carpet at Vergil's feet playing with the loose threads that had withered with time. His face stooped low, seemingly watching himself fidget with the Persian cotton. "You kept calling for him, reaching out for him in your sleep-"

"Dante's my brother."

Sadly, his reply signalled the end of the conversation, but he could swear the man on the floor breathed a sigh of relief whilst picking at the expensive carpet. Nero moved to his knees and grabbed the towel, feeling the cool cloth in his hands before handing it over; Vergil caught the look on Nero's eyes and half-heartedly took it from him, enjoying the cool texture on his skin as he wiped the feint droplets of sweat on his forehead. His hands were still shaking from the ordeal and he felt embarrassed being so vulnerable; he knew Nero sensed the anxiety that wracked his body and hiding it was futile against a man who was able to pick up the tiniest of inconsistencies day to day. "Please don't worry. I swear I'm okay."

"I have no doubt about that." Vergil let the spread towel hang loosely in his grasp. Nero took it from him, folded it into a rectangle and did it the right way, reaching in the general direction where he had heard his voice and dabbing the towel along his silver hairline, using his finger to trace down the rest of the offending droplets; Vergil leaned into it unknowingly enjoying the attention given to him, also knowing Nero wouldn't leave until he convinced himself he was okay. He pensively moved closer to him, waiting for a gesture to stop - when none came, he snuggled between Vergil's legs and continued the quest with his bare hands, tracing his sharp, shaky features with his fingertips - he fell upon the invisible trail his tears left as he woke, following them to the corners of his mouth where he treaded lightly and used his thumb to wipe them away, earning a much needed hearty chuckle from the man on the bed. Nero imagined the kind smile that accompanied his laugh and couldn't help but smile too, looking directly at Vergil as he did so. He instinctively cuffed Nero's wrist that found its way to his jaw, rubbing his thumb over the gentle and soothing pulse of his heartbeat.

Nero's eyes grew at the sudden contact, surprised that his hand hadn't yet been swatted away by the demon. Vergil watched as his smile grew and the cogs in his brain whiz a split second faster, completely disregarding the fact that he missed a pulse holding his wrist; he watched Nero for a second longer, noticing a flicker of longing and apprehension cross his eyes. Vergil coyly leaned forward as his hands caressed Nero's neck, resisting the urge that had been building since he walked in the room; the man below braced himself knowing what was coming and straightened his spine, meeting his roommate halfway, giving him no leverage to turn back. They kissed, delicate on one another's lips like the unspoken tension between them; Vergil pulled him closer and closer, savouring the feel of Nero's skin on him as his hands snaked to the back of his head, playing with and threading his fingers through his snow white hair.

Nero's tongue escaped his mouth and ran over the other's lips, begging for entry into his mouth to deepen the kiss; Vergil obliged, grabbing his tongue and sucking ever so slightly before collapsing into Nero's mouth like a maniac starved of human contact for centuries. The teen whole-heartedly welcomed his advances, enjoying the idea of him taking charge in allowing him to quench the thirst he had watched grow since he moved in. With his hands anchored on his thighs the teen moved backward attempting to break the kiss for the burden of oxygen, but Vergil immediately caught his lower lip between his teeth and suckled at the enflamed flesh.

He couldn't get enough.


	11. The path of righteousness

_Vergil followed him through the maze that was the main chamber of the Underworld. Regardless of the many mental notes he made to find his way back, the deeper he crept to the centre the more everything merged into one identical mess, making it beyond difficult to find his way back by himself. By the time he had made it to his brother's bedroom, he was fully invested in a gigantic book lying across his desk chewing on the back of a pen. He stepped into the room as Dante waved him in, gawking at the leather-bound mass of information in front of him. As he got closer, he noticed two empty blood bags in the corner of his desk stacked neatly next to a notepad covered in scribbles. "What the hell, Dante?"_

 _His younger brother turned to look at him for the first time since he entered. "That joke never gets old, but you can only tell it so many times until it gets annoying." The leather-bound monster of a book took up almost a third of his desk; as Dante read, Vergil sat on the office chair and rolled into his line of sight._

 _"What is that thing?"_

 _"I was meant to have this memorised page for page before my first day."_

 _"Okay, that makes sense."_

 _"Only I didn't."_

 _"That also makes sense."_

 _"Ha-ha-ha, you brother's an idiot, we all get it. But you need to take a look at this." Dante turned to the page he had been staring at since the book was opened. "I need you to confirm this. You're the only soul alive who can."_

 _Vergil moved closer to the book and saw a picture of a face that was hard to forget; a dead look in his eyes, deep purple armour, a weapon that matched him in size and power; the name in the top corner didn't correspond to the picture staring back at him, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind he knew who this was. "I don't easily forget the people I murder, Dante-"_

 _"I never said that, but if you're going to confirm my suspicion, I have some really bad news."_

 _Dante held up one of the blood bags over the script in the corner; the name was written in a weird font, but paired with the picture he could see the letters take form to spell the name he had hoped to never hear again: SPARDA._

 _"Nero has our blood running in his veins."_

"I need a favour."

Vergil had shown up unannounced in his full uniform with a face that reeked of havoc; his destructive element was turned to the highest setting and the distress in his voice demanded that his request be met in a timely fashion. Dante turned and took a proper look at his brother as he stormed into the chamber, noting the urgency in his voice and contrasting body language he illustrated. There was a particular glow to Vergil – one Dante had never seen before – and he suspected both the strange and elated equation standing in front of him had something to do with the other half of the residency. He felt bad at the assumption, but the sudden bump in his brother's persona could only be blamed on one thing.

"I could've been with a girl, ya know."

Vergil's eyebrow shot up and bit on his lips masking a very offensive laugh his brother wouldn't have enjoyed. Dante hated when his non-existent agenda was interrupted, even if it was his own flesh and blood in dire need of help. "And you're afraid that she might have left you high and dry when she laid her eyes on me?"

"We look exactly the same-"

"What a brilliant observation, my genius of a twin brother." He placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head to the right. "I hate to rush through our usual scheduled bickering, but there's something I need done and you are the only person that can help me."

Dante pursed his lips in scrutiny and mimicked his brother, tossing his head dramatically to the other side. "Oh really? And why is that?"

"Because you won't stop me in shortening my to-do list for today."

"I can't stop you – that goes against my own policy." Dante crossed his arms over his bare chest, unintentionally flexing his well-sculpted frame. "Besides, you know I can't say no to you; what do you need, Verge?"

His older brother fidgeted with the buttons on the sleeves of his trademark blue trench coat, whizzing through every possible reply he could think of if his brother did happen to refuse giving him what he needed. He might already know the reasons for him doing what he was about to do, but he had to try doing things the right way; his new leaf told him to. "I need to track someone on the surface."

Dante sat on the same tiny flight of stairs he shared with his human companion all those days ago and put his head on his knees. "This doesn't smell good."

"I never said it would." Vergil's normal response would be to march through the rest of the room without waiting for a reply; he figured it was common courtesy to at least inform the other party of what he was about to do before carrying through with the action no questions asked, but he remained in his position patiently for the outcome. His body filled with anxiety as Dante took his time deciding whether or not to help him, and the fact that he was in a hurry didn't make anything better – the faster he took care of business, the sooner he would be home to Nero.

Dante stole a quick glance around the entirety of the room as if lost souls were watching him commit a crime. "Computer's in the back." He saw his brother breathe a sigh of relief, dropping his shoulders as he walked with purpose to the device. Passing Dante, he ruffled his soft silver hair the manner in which an older brother would, placing a kind peck at the top of his head. He went all mushy inside, remembering how good it felt to have his older brother back on his side.

Vergil was making progress; true, he held onto his selfish, asshole, and diabolical ways, but not to the detriment of his character. In the time he had been taking care of Nero, he became self-aware of the basics that he had easily taken for granted on a day to day basis, and became more appreciative of what he possessed as opposed to being hungry and obsessed with what he didn't. He was now able to look at himself in the mirror for what he was and not as a failure for not achieving the impossible; Nero had made him believe that it was okay to dissolve the mask he carried around with him and just be himself, because he would be appreciated more for who he truly was against what he pretended to be for all these years.

Vergil passed him again, this time with Yamato sitting comfortably in his palm. "One day, I will be able to thank you properly for this, Dante."

"You can thank me by taking this with you." He stood and removed his half of the necklace their mother had them share; by possessing both halves, Vergil would be able to roam between realms unscathed and with no trouble from Dante's minions who were in charge of border patrol. He stalked to his brother and tied it behind his neck, connecting them with some mystical force that altered the centres of red and blue to share a deep purple. It was the sole piece of memory they had left of their mother and of their legacy and it meant more to them than their individual lives combined. "Would hate for you to get into twice the trouble I know you'll be in." One last squeeze to his shoulders and one last wish came from the king of Hell, alongside biddings of safety and good luck. "Just bring it back in one piece."

With the complete necklace hidden under his coat, he ventured back home to scratch the last task off his list; opening his front door, he watched Nero dish himself a bowl of vanilla ice cream with his favourite chocolate sprinkles on the side. An empty bowl sat next to his filled one, and he glanced up the exact position he assumed Vergil would be, halting his dishing efforts. "Something tells me you won't want some?"

What he didn't want was some dragged out goodbye; the more time Nero had to convince him to stay, the longer he would mentally fight with himself and pursue the actual mission at hand. "I would, but I'm heading out." Nero continued dishing until the ice cream mountain peaked above the rim, dousing it in the small pieces of artificial chocolate. The atmosphere changed rapidly, and it broke Nero's heart that he was the only one between the two who sensed it. When Vergil had his mind set on a task – or anything for that matter – aiming his train of thought in another direction was finding hay in a needle stack; the admirable sense of duty he possessed wasn't for the faint-hearted. "It should only be for a day."

Nero nodded along nonsensically. "Is this something assigned to you or a personal thing?"

He stepped in and closed the door, only venturing up the small staircase in front of it. Vergil clutched Yamato tighter in his grip; without the guard, the blade would have sliced through his palm with ease. "As of lately it's become both."

To play it safe, Nero took his bowl and sat at the dining table, keeping his eyes down as he spoke with no real conviction. "Your sense of duty is infuriating sometimes."

"If anyone else did this it wouldn't seem right-"

"And since when does the 'who' matter to you?" Nero played with the frozen treat, swirling it around the bowl with his spoon until it softened. "It doesn't matter whose hand the blood falls on, it's still the loss of life-"

"It's a totally different circumstance if they deserve it."

"No one deserves to die before their time, Vergil." For the second time since he arrived, Nero's face shot up to meet his with equal vigour and venom; he understood better than anyone what it was to go before your intended time, and although he didn't know it at the time, the irony of the situation owed to it being the only motivation of Vergil's current actions. He held an impressive killing streak for all the wrong reasons and was guilty of the very thing that Nero professed against, but as the final nail in the coffin to signify the big step away from his old ways, he deemed this a fitting ending as his final kill; the logic stood steadfast behind his decision, so his mind was at peace.

"Some don't warrant the right to live after what they have done." He kept the eye contact, knowing Nero couldn't see it. "There is no alternative."

"Staying away and letting nature run its course – now that's what I call an alternative."

Vergil almost laughed. "I'm too impatient for that."

Nero was close to finishing his ice cream, placing the bowl at the edge of the counter while Vergil couldn't take his eyes off Nero's arm; it glowed the closer he stalked, serving as a warning to the deadly prey just a few feet away. He wondered if he already knew about his new power, let alone the fact that his smooth skin had taken a rough, scaly, tough turn for the worst; his body adjusted surprisingly well to alterations in his system and Vergil was left speechless at the immense strength he must have inhabited for it to have no influence on him whatsoever. Nero stood over the sink rubbing both of his temples. "I'm counting on you to make it back alive."

"Do you think I won't make it?"

"I have many doubts currently flowing through my mind, but that isn't one of them." He pushed his hair back, fluffing it at the top. When his fringe fell into his face, he hopelessly blew it into the air where it stayed suspended for a few seconds until gravity got the best of it. "Just do so with a clear head and no wounds – I suck at first aid."

"Reckless isn't my style." He could see the worry tense up Nero's shoulders, and Vergil fought the urge to reassure him all was going to be fine. His history was light-years past Nero's comprehension and if he knew a drop of it, he would know there was no need for concern. "I see, I kill, and I move on. I will be extra careful, Nero."

His knuckles turned white against the intense need to stop him, but in the end all he gave Vergil was a nod and the demon was on his way. He felt empty as he closed the door behind him, knowing that there was something he had missed while speaking with Nero. Everything in him told him to turn around and open the door, so that was exactly what he did. He came face to face with an anxious and exhausted Nero in the motion of reaching for the door handle. In a flash Vergil had his hand resting on the back of Nero's neck while the teen clung to his coat, their foreheads crashed intimately against one another. "Don't do anything stupid; you die, I kill you myself."

Their closeness allowed Nero to feel the smirk on Vergil's lips. "I will come back to you, Nero."


	12. A devil in the details

The weather was the least welcoming he had ever experienced; the air was damp and foggy, the wind was on its way to subsiding, and every house looked exactly the same around every confusing corner Vergil took. The street lights flickered from overuse as he arrived at his location; just as he had calculated, it was the middle of night and the streets were less than dead without a single soul mysteriously roaming the many hundreds of dark alleyways waiting to jump at unsuspecting, innocent people and slit their throats for something less than the worth of their human life.

He pulled out the folded piece of paper he printed from Dante's computer and held it up for inspection, noting the street name and number to be identical; the house had seen a few bad years and looked close to haunted, save for the properly-tendered houses on either side: the grass was a dull brown, not a single flower in sight, the curtains matched the overall death-theme that came included in the package; it had long last had a good spring-clean, but Vergil expected nothing less from disaster from a single man in his forties who never knew what was good for him in the first place. Vergil had a programmed temper when it came to the human race, and the tiniest inconvenience sent him in a fit of conditioned rage, lowering his general temperament to the species. This was no exception – he felt exceptionally evil at smiling at the depraved life he was about to end, thinking about the dirty blood that presently flowed through his veins and the next few minutes where it would escape his body in the best fashion possible.

He broke the lock of the front door with ease: the swollen wood had seen much better days as Vergil glided his hand through it, gripping the entire handle and pulling the brass slowly out of its place. The frail door swung inward and he let himself in, nothing the steep staircase directly in front of him and the lounge to his left, a heavy could of smoke hovering in the small space. He walked briskly to the half-full bottle of brandy and the empty tumbler sitting next to it.

 _How thoughtful – he's a drunk._

Seeing the lower level as empty as it was, he figured the human had taken his alcohol-induced leave for the night. Vergil warped up the stairs and gazed over the landing at the layout of the bedrooms; he honed in on the noise levels of each room and located the slow-paced heartbeat in the room in the corner – a very peculiar spot to have a main bedroom as opposed to the other two. Passing the first room, a recognisable scent threw him off guard. He looked to the door and stared at it for some time, suppressing his curiosity in confirming that this was indeed Nero's old bedroom; keeping his eyes on the floor he reached for the door, feeling his roommate's warm and welcoming aura seep through the woodwork as a direct contrast to the rest of the forsaken prison.

The closer he trod, the louder the beats grew, and the deeper the sleep his victim entered with each passing second: hidden under the covers and fast asleep, he breathed at a normal pace with not a care in the world, and that frustrated him more. Closing the door behind him, he gaped at the form in his last moments, gauging how he would succumb to the pain and torture waiting for him after the trail with Dante. Vergil climbed onto the bed gently and meticulously, not wanting his presence to be spotted until the right instant; he concentrated his weight to the balls of his feet on either side of the sleeping body and it sunk into the dip he created, waking the figure from a deep sleep.

It always intrigued him to how the body somehow knew danger was present and it possessed the ability to bring you from level four sleep to being wide awake to protect it from whatever harm was lurking in the shadows. Unfortunately for the form on the bed there was no exit, no adrenaline boost for him to call for help, and not a hint of absolution Vergil was able to offer him. He scrambled from his comfortable position but the demon was quicker, letting his sword hover mid-air above the sheets. Vergil's red eyes glowed in the dark, petrifying the human to the extent he never thought possible; terror filled his pupils as he found his voice, pleading with everything he had. "Take anything you want-"

Vergil sank down to the form's level and held his hand over his mouth, providing a satisfied smile as the human's tears lubricated his fingers. Yamato reappeared in his hands and the sharp end sat snuggly between his ribs; a few inches more and the human heart wouldn't handle all the blood lost in the time it would take for him to bleed out. The man on the bed was frozen stiff, not bothering to defend himself for the clear death that flashed before his eyes. The demon steadied his hand on the hilt, needing little to no effort to drive the sword straight through his soon-to-be lifeless corpse and more than ready to see the decaying face in Hell. Vergil kept their gaze locked as he watched the life fade from the other, sliding the sword effortlessly through his body and mattress.

He struggled at the inescapable agony brought on by the blade's edge; like a hot knife through butter, it sliced through bone and flesh without breaking a sweat – a clean cut was quick and it did the job just fine, and as much as Vergil wanted to be the one to make him suffer, he knew his brother had more tricks up his sleeve than he did.

Because of the small space he allowed for the blood to ooze through, it would be a while until he tasted the metallic fang of death that clutched his heart. The pair of glowing eyes settled inches from his face where he immediately stopped moving, watching the hypnotic flames in Vergil's eyes designed to steadily increase the pain he would endure until his timely end.

"I have no interest in anything you have to offer."


	13. Two of a kind

Thanks to the pendant around his neck, the dominions of Hell weren't able to torture him into submission for resisting arrest. The necklace was an indication that he was to return to the Underworld so they had no reason to use force, much to their delight. Vergil had not butchered the body of his newest victim, leaving his soul intact and making work easier for his brother who had before needed to search for the bits and pieces of each of his previous targets. To save time, the biggest of the lot wrapped the body in the blankets that were at his disposal, and Vergil beheld the bundle of cloth in disgust, thinking the human didn't afford more than such a luxury.

Ayvorus was among them, leading the pack back to their home in the fiery depths; he noticed the difference between the current lifeless form and the ones prior, pondering on possible reasons the notorious killing machine made away with such a clean kill. "You were doing so well, Vergil."

He kept his eyes straight. "This was something that I had to do."

"So you've said one hundred and eight thousand times." Ayvorus gawked at the demon and the surprised delicacy to his voice; he hadn't known Vergil to have a caring bone in his body, yet somehow he seemed more earthly and conscious of his actions – another aspect of his personality he had yet to witness.

"You'll see."

A brief nod and a smirk later, he came face to face with the infamous Black Gate, one conjured by Ayvorus that was a direct path to the trial chamber. Vergil walked through without hesitation, and unlike last time didn't end up on the other side bound by chains; the power of the purple amulet had prevented him from being treated like a criminal, too aware of the murder that had just taken place and also seeing its purpose behind it.

He stood awaiting trial. Again. No arrogance, no antipathy, no gloating; it was just him and the elated feeling of having a conscience as clean as his brother's street credibility. He was standing to the right of the carefully positioned dead body on the floor, missing his brother's stare by the skin of his teeth. As the soldiers left the room, Dante watched him more cautiously than he had ever had – there was something about the way he took the murder under his belt in a proud manner, and being the irritatingly curious demon he was, he couldn't wait to dig deep into what had gotten Vergil in such a good mood.

The titanium chains began to move the instant he broke the necklace in two, leaving his brother's half glowing at the centre of the floor. He crossed his wrists together and the metal twisted into a shape that wasn't easily wiggled out of, thwarting any unauthorised actions while the trial was in session. Vergil watched his brother claim the amulet a few feet away, feeling its glowing core and absorbing the memories through his fingertips; he gave his brother a defeated look, and at the same time realising what the death meant to him. A few seconds later the sheets moved, revealing a disordered human from beneath; male, five feet six, doused in thirty three shades of alcohol and smelling like forgotten dishes on a warm summer's day, the sheets proved a tumultuous task to get rid of as the twins left him to stumble on his own. Dante lurked one foot away, charmed at the wholeness of the new death. "Your name."

It stopped dead, not grasping the potential of other people sharing the room he inhabited. "Who are you? Where am I? What am I doing here?" The human finally freed himself from his cotton torment and looked straight at Dante, taking a tiny step back at his insanely terrorising and intimidating physique.

His trained blue eyes never left the brown orbs that cowered in panic. "I'm Dante." He spoke softly and took a step forward. "You are in Hell." Another step. "The man standing to your right killed you and brought you here with him." Another one, laced with venom like his tone. "Now, answer my question."

The human could feel two sets of eyes burning through him as he gathered himself from the floor, moving some steps back to widen the gap between him and the twins. "My name is Warren-"

"Where's your file, Warren?"

The sudden intrusion startled the human, setting him more on edge. "My what?"

"Your file; everyone gets one before they enter this place."

Vergil raised both his hands comically and the chains broke the silent tension Dante was aiming for. "I think I'm partially to blame for that. I don't know how, but I know the administration department might add the blame to my ever-growing offense list, so I'd rather get it over and done with." The real reason for the missing paperwork was owing to the body being directly delivered to Dante's chamber as opposed to his soul undergoing the three stages of passing; confirmation, deliverance, and arrival – at the time the shell that shields the soul is pronounced lifeless, the soul escapes the body and enters Limbo, recreating the shell it inhabited; the arrival signalled the successful entry to either Heaven or Hell and the time taken between confirmation and arrival is used for data collection, convergence, and supply of the paperwork, ready for when the soul enters either realm. Being brought straight to Hell was a rare occurrence, only defying the usual routine when one of the two parties involved had a record that deemed them worthy of the Underworld: in Vergil's case it was a given.

It was also a rare circumstance for Dante to forget that vital piece of information. "Oh. Nevermind then; I guess I'll just have to listen to you speak." He implemented the documentation to negate the following conversation from happening; he generally enjoyed conversing with people, but this initial introduction to Hell was a foreshadowing for what was to come. He convinced himself it was unintentional, but he needed to amuse himself, didn't he? "Tell me about yourself, Warren."

"Okay-"

"That's just fantastic; you got any kids?" Dante stared at Vergil for that question, where he confirmed their twin intuition; he knew instantly who he was dealing with and decided to not make things easy for the filthy creature standing before them.

"I don't."

"How sure are you of that fact?" The anger stewed comfortably inside the older brother standing resolute beside his victim, using every ounce of his being to stop himself from pouncing on the idiot and tearing him to shreds. Both forms had not noticed Dante disappear and reappear at his throne in the blink of an eye with a scared figure behind him. The human gave Vergil the stink eye and it flew right over his head; the dead man should know better to provoke the man who mere moments ago drove a sword through his chest with ease.

 _Dante had trained himself to use this technique only when he needed to, but the mental and physical strain only permitted its use once a day. He was one of the strongest to ever rule the realm, but defying the very fabric of the space-time continuum could take its toll on anyone. Nero noticed the room turned a bright red as he walked from behind the curtain that veiled him as Dante held his hand for him to join the three._

 _"Don't worry, they can't see or hear you."_

 _His adoptive father was at the centre of the room visibly shaken by the full-frontal attack – he remembered that face all too well, burned as a nightmare in his subconscious and the emotion tucked away quietly, patiently waiting for the day he could exact revenge and make him suffer, but Nero would never have imagined it would come so quickly._

 _"I must ask that you stay behind me the entire time; things could take a really nasty turn and my brother would never forgive me if you were caught in the crossfire."_

 _"Your brother? What does he have anything to do with this?"_

 _"What are you talking about?" With their faces were sated in confusion, Dante stepped to the side and Vergil came into view. "Don't you recognise him?"_

 _The teen shook his head, genuinely perplexed at Dante. "Other than the fact that he's a mirror image of you, not really." The person to his left seemed vaguely familiar to him but he couldn't put his finger on where he had recognised him; he turned to his protector, asking the question he knew he probably shouldn't but needed to ask. "Who is that?"_

 _"Wait," he said, amused and upset at the same time. "So you're telling me that after spending so much time with him, you've never really known what he looks like?" The simplicity of his tone gave it away, but his raised eyebrows were still sceptical in misbelief. "He's been taking care of you this entire time, Nero."_

 _Everything until now had been a complete blur. "THAT'S VERGIL?"_

 _He took the time to take a careful look at him, remembering every feature he had learned of so far and correlating it to the form in front of him, confirming the title fear he had since he moved in. The king of Hell was the very last person he expected to be related to Vergil, not even mentioning all the hours he had spent trying to put a face to his roommate and it stared him in the face. Literally. Nero caught his lip between his teeth, bringing him back to the issue at hand. The revelation hit him square in the face, looking back and forth between them, and he went back to hating himself for comprehending the facts too late. "You're Dante, aren't you?"_

 _"The one and only." Nero's face dulled in colour. "There are probably a billion things going through your head right now, but I'm gonna need you to squash them and concentrate on this trail. Can you do that for me?"_

 _The last thing he needed was more mental strain, but he knew Dante would not have asked if he didn't think he was capable. "Of course."_

 _"Okay – I'm going to take the shield down now. I need you to be strong for Vergil."_

 _Nero nodded - he'd do anything for him._

The king of Hell dragged their attention back to him, shielding his visitor from view. "I'd like to say that you're lying, but what do I know?"

"My wife and I couldn't have children-"

"Adoption is always another route you could take." The human's eyes narrowed at the mention of the word, caught in the corner of both twins' eyes. "Hit a nerve, did I?"

The conversation took a disconsolate turn. "I'd like to keep that memory as far in the back of my brain as possible."

"So you wouldn't mind if I jog it, would you?" Dante switched to daunting mode, stepping out to the side and revealing a visibly shocked Nero; Vergil had no knowledge of this turn of events and kept his emotions at bay in endeavouring to piece together the puzzle his brother had created. He stood at Dante's side, alarmed but confident at coming face to face with his murderer. "Why am I asking? I can do whatever the hell I want."

He pointed toward Nero in revolt. "That is no son of mine. That project belonged to my wife – I had nothing to do with it."

Nero tried his hardest to take his eyes off Vergil, but the demon was mesmerising: the blue coat sat invitingly against his frame with his bulging biceps on full display and his small waist in plain sight; the silhouette of his massive shoulders hidden under the pale cotton mixed with the low V-neck shirt he wore did his stature justice, but the black jeans that sat below his hips was uncalled for; from his position, his snow-white hair looked softer than any plush he owned, slicked back for a full view of his delicious features that Nero had grown to enjoy devouring in his blind state. The way he held his stare was as if they had known each other for years before Nero's untimely end. He was everything he imagined he looked like multiplied by six hundred and sixty six.

"You consider human life a project?" Vergil was notorious in remaining calm when the situation called for the direct opposite; the response was calculated and composed – for how long it would remain that way was a question it itself.

"Not all, just his." His cockiness floundered through at the sight of his adopted son; a trace of superiority coated his scratchy voice addressing the teen who matched his level of confidence – it wilted as their eyes met, and the human had the upper hand in the conversation. "He has caused my family nothing but pain since we brought him home. It's really fitting to see him here; he deserves it more than anyone else." The creepy smile that overtook his features was more than haunting, but it didn't come close to triggering the twins. Nero was used to it, but it managed to freeze his spine as it always did.

"How so?"

It was hilarious how quickly his attitude changed when either Dante or Vergil spoke to him; the hideous smile faded almost as fast as it appeared, and dread wracked his body. "Excuse me?"

"You say he deserves to be here; how so?" He moved between them, breaking contact and the human's courage in speaking so boldly. More than anything, Dante wanted to see the man crumble because he deserved it and to redeem Vergil's sense of honour and justice; he may have taken the difficult road on his journey to recovery, but it was a start. A rightful one. "Because he only asked to be here to watch you burn and perish into non-existence."

"It's how it's written in the books isn't it? In Hell, you roam around like normal and continue with your life-"

"If I allow it."

"What?" The detail of the hellish fine print alarmed him.

This scarcely-mentioned fact was known by the elite of Hell, or those with multiple, repeated offences that were proposed the chance to end their existence at the hand of the king. "You live if I allow you to live; piss me off and its clean-cut guarantee that you will never return to see another life in any form. I kill you, you're gone forever." The man that stood before Dante made his blood boil, so he made quick use of his time and moved him to the top of his list. "Would you like that, dear human? Needless to say it would be the greatest of pleasures."

He focused all of his energy in provoking his son, an easy target compared to the other two beings in the room; tilting his head, he looked passed Dante's form and a small portion of Nero came into view. "Would you like that, Nero? To see me die at the hands of someone else? After what we've been through?" The maniacal smile was back and aimed at the ceiling. "All the fights, the blood, the scars-"

"We don't need to talk about that-"

"We do. If I'm gonna to be the bad guy, I might as well relive the best damn decision of my life!" The man next to Vergil screamed at the top of his lungs for his point to hit home; it wasn't loud enough to send the souls trapped in their walls to wail in panic, but the noise level was uncommon in the area at that precise time of day. The twins could sense he was losing his cool, his level head at the start of the encounter fading quickly to reveal the true, frightened monster that he was.

Dante mockingly nodded his head in understanding and crossed his arms over his chest, his half of the amulet glowing brightly. "I'm gonna be honest for a second; I lost respect for you the moment you were dumped in this room, but I do care for the dry cleaning bill for expensive drapes that line this entire space; you say one more sentence and that man next to you will tear you to a thousand pieces." His eyebrows flashed up and a welcoming smile urged the human to utter a few words.

Vergil kept his head forward – one look at the only family Nero once had and his little brother would see a side of him that was most unpleasant. "He can do whatever he wants with that sword-"

"I said tear, not cut. He will practically rip into you with his bare hands and make you watch your own death-"

Nero came out from behind Dante's shadow and sauntered swiftly to him. The contrast in physicality was almost laughable with Nero hovering over him like a school bully; the image in front of the twins indicated an easy win for the teen, but knowing his soft, caring, and kind nature, they had no doubt the man would win hands down in a game of psychological warfare. He had the intimidation act down to a T, but Nero held his own in the new realm. They smiled at one another and Nero's speedily altered to satisfaction; balling his fist, he lunged back as far as his long legs would allow and swung with all his might, connecting his new hand of iron with the weak jaw of the human. The resounding snap travelled through the walls as he fell to the ground hard, hitting a new crack in his skull; Nero shook off the shock in his wrist and walked triumphantly toward Dante. Unluckily for him, the rate in recovering from an injury quadruples in Hell, so the man on the floor rushed to his feet and readied to attack; unluckily for him, two of the world's deadliest creatures kept their sharp eyes trained for danger and lunged like lightning – Dante to the attacker and Vergil to keep Nero out of harm's way by means of the chains magically disappearing by his brother's will. His protector kept his free hand behind his back, shielding his roommate; cutely, Nero laced their fingers together and leaned against his arm, astounded at how much the punch took out of him. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"I'm happy you got that out of your system."

It was impossible to ignore the proud undertone as he spoke, but that was eclipsed by a head-splitting scream coming from the middle of the room. The teen rested against Vergil and shifted between his shoulder blades while the blue barrier held his hand tightly. "Why didn't you go after him? I was looking forward to seeing him being torn to pieces."

"As inviting as that sounds, I'm afraid my brother can do much worse." Vergil was always afraid of watching his sibling from the side lines, thankful they were polar opposites on the killing front – where Vergil chose swift and bloody, Dante chose to play with his victims and having as much fun as he could before their bodies caved in from his torture. As a result they would be lumpy heaps of flesh contorted beyond human ability, which were more gruesome to clean up. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Worse? What's worse than being torn apart?"

On the other side of the room Beowulf bared its silver claws around Dante's fists and legs, and wasting no time, he punched the human with a force so severe it caused a ripple along the each of the four demented walls housing them. The human stood in the centre of the room attempting to gather all the breath that had been stolen from him to satisfy his dying lungs. Clutching at his deflating body, a bloodcurdling scream bubbled along with the masses of blood begging for escape; all of his internal organs were obliterated to a million fleshy bits outside normal repair, but the healing process started immediately – unfortunately for him, a mixed soul would repair the weapon's damage in approximately three weeks; a human died upon contact.

He was on his knees, needlessly gasping for air for a pair of lungs that weren't suited for breathing. Raising his head, an image that would haunt his dreams appeared before him: his attacker's icy blue eyes were replaced by a fiery red swimming in a deep pool of black, accompanied by the biggest set fangs he had the displeasure of crossing and the most beautiful, deep crimson leathery wingspan protruding out of his back. "Let me tell you something." He lifted the human to his feet, using his power to levitate his helpless body at eye level. "Number one: don't ever assume we are equal. Number two: don't underestimate my supremacy in this domain. Lastly, don't think that because I encourage peace and tranquillity that I won't crush you to smithereens."

He held him at the base of his neck and pushed his head back at an awkward angle. "Your place here is based on your past actions, so any plans you have at a peaceful existence you can kiss goodbye." Another scream passed his lips as Dante tightly gripped and twisted the loose skin at his chest – his ribcage now non-existent – and pulled with all his might, slowly detaching the protective layer keeping together what was left of his body.

At that moment Vergil and Nero turned to face away from the assault, opting to hear the shrieks rather than witness a mortifying murder. "Does that suffice?"


	14. Humans equal demons in existence

Nero found it troubling that the monster he had witnessed moments ago torturing the life out of another living being was in his kitchen currently slicing fruit to complete two towering strawberry ice cream sundaes. "See Verge try to top this, I dare you." He handed one to Nero, almost forgetting that he was able to see. He took it with delight, digging into the sweet treat. "He's not dead. I showed him a few things, that's all. I'm no savage, contrary to Vergil's belief. You'll have proper revenge someday, when you're stronger."

After what he had seen Dante do, it was impossible to imagine breath leaving or entering the mound of skin that was left on the floor by the time he was done. Nero tried to block the most recent memory in his head and the strawberries were doing the trick just fine. Avoiding the conversation about the currently disposed carcass, he turned his attention to the question he really wanted an answer to. "What is up with the two of you and sugar?" He took a spoonful and it was much sweeter than the plain version Vergil resorted to. "I'm not complaining, but it seems a tad weird of a thing to be obsessed with."

Dante kept his eyes on his treat, expertly mingling the syrup and fruit like a pro with a genuine, devilish smirk itching at the side of his face. "You think the two of us are obsessed with sugar?"

"All Vergil eats is vanilla ice cream, and you've just dished strawberry sundaes. You can blame me for my brilliant observation skills, but it's something to worry about."

"It's nothing to worry about." Dante shoved a heaped spoon into his mouth. "Sugar is a legal, safe alternative to curb demon thirst. As kids we couldn't feed properly and the sugar kept us going for a while. If we were to live normal lives mixing with the humans, we needed to perfect the many ways we could manipulate it into our diet." He wasn't scared to show his true love toward the strawberries, shoving in spoon after spoon of the pink confection and waiting for his partner to do the same.

Nero stopped suddenly, feeling his previous helping slide cautiously down the correct pipe. "Did you just say… Demon thirst?"

"Yes-" Dante had a really good joke in his back pocket, but the teen's expression was anything but amused. "And judging from your facial expression I guess Vergil didn't-"

"YOU TWO ARE DEMONS?" He was close to jumping out of his seat.

Instead of being caught off guard by his lurid tone, Dante chuckled innocuously from his side of the table and the smooth sound prevented him from losing his seat. "Everything in here is some form of demon, Nero." He eyed him over the rim of his dessert glass. "If it counts for anything, we're only half. The only living purebred hybrids in existence; exactly fifty-fifty, right down the middle." Dante karate-chopped his table to illustrate just how half and half they were.

Nero rested his head on his human hand, rubbing his temple as he watched his frozen dessert melt into a lumpy pool of pink with pieces of fresh strawberry peaking at the top; he thought the queasiness he was experiencing came from watching someone he once knew be deformed before his very eyes. The demon aspect of Vergil didn't bother him in the slightest, but not recognising him between the four in the room hit him harder than he anticipated. In terms of all things logical, there was no explanation as to why he didn't connect the dots and assume who the remaining person in the room would be.

Dante watched his gloomy misery from the side lines long enough, and the last straw was the supposed watery substance that vaguely resembled his initial creamy masterpiece - with a flick of his wrist the ice cream refroze from its base upward, returning it to its former glory in separating the ice cream and syrup. "Don't beat yourself up about it. There was no way you could have known-"

"I always sense him - I've trained myself to sense his presence and I've never been wrong." The coldness was calling to him. Or was it the sugar? "Not once. Until now."

Nero missed Dante's trademark smirk as he continued eating; hearing his pain was music to his ears and not in the conventional way either. "You are so used to him, everything else seems unnatural. No matter how you look at that it's not a bad thing." From the end of the table he could see a feisty blue tinge glowing off Nero's jaw; he was in the middle of zoning out as his sundae began melting again. "Now if you don't mind, I'd appreciate if you carried on eating or that arm of yours is gonna go haywire. Not that it matters to me; I could just tear it off."

He swallowed slowly, a bit in shock. "You'd do that to me?"

A shrug. "I'd do that to save my own life-"

Two eyebrows raised. "This thing couldn't scratch you even if it tried-"

A nonchalant spoon satisfied its carrier. "Doesn't matter, that was a human. I don't know what that thing is capable of."

Nero pouted and picked at the fruit tentatively as his mind whizzed thousands of miles from the current situation. Dante wasn't one to pry, but reading his mind was the only probable way to give light to anything that was on Nero's mind. The cold cutlery made a clean exit out of Dante's mouth and gave the last remnants their last few chews. "The obvious, simple answer is that he figured you needed closure – maybe he thought you may change your mind in wanting to stay in Hell and go where you truly belong."

The teen's head snapped up at lightning speed as the worst stage of his brain freeze kicked in. "Huh?"

The demon tapped the cold spoon against his temple. "If you don't want me snooping around, you have to learn to close your mind. Or don't have a look on your face that tells me you're hiding something."

Nero scratched his forehead, stopping himself from thinking anything that might be detrimental to his survival. "What's the complicated one?"

After six cautionary spoonfulls Nero gave up on his sundae and set his spoon neatly next to the glass tower; he was more than ready to hear the ultimate truth about his roommate. Dante continued eating, the words never breaking the stride he took to devour his dessert. "A couple of years ago, there was a very wise boy who was forced to grow up too fast and take the role of the man of the house at a very young age; his father was the most powerful demon in existence and his mother was a human, known to be the weakest of all species. His father wasn't around to take care of them, so he made his mother and his irrevocably handsome younger brother his responsibility-" he added a wink for effect, "-and that was his world; a confined space that was prone to danger every which way you turned. The night their mother died was the last time the younger brother had seen the elder sane and both their respective worlds changed completely. To this day, the older brother considers himself responsible for her death and thinks that he will need to atone for this one sin he committed so long ago for the rest of his life – he made sure his brother lived a healthy life with a good childhood while he wandered off in search for the father that had abandoned them."

Dante took a deep breath, not conscious of the toll telling the story actually took on him. "For a long time the two demons had to figure the world out by themselves. With that being all they knew, they turned to loneliness as their only true companion through trying times for most of their lives. When they finally found each other again it was too late." There was a hint of sympathy in his sneer as he scooped the last dregs out of his cup. "You see, when you grow up without having someone to look up to, it becomes increasingly difficult to find yourself and the person you are meant to be. I had him and wanted to be just like him, and he will never know how thankful I am that he was there as much as he could be. He was a better father to me than our own, and watching a father reject his son hit a bit too close to home for both of us."

Nero had many reasons to believe that his roommate endured a rough time as a child but the truth stood so far from what his imagination could conjure, and in an instant everything up until now had made sense: the pointless fights, the constant stares he felt behind him, the manner in which he always put Nero first and cared less about himself in certain spaces, the times when his concern outshone his rationality. Realising the impact of Dante's words and how accurately it portrayed his brother, he took the last deep dig with his spoon, hoping the freezing treat would hinder the growing lump in his throat.

Dante stood and ventured to the kitchen to scour his freezer for more ice cream. "He wasn't my real father-"

"Whether you're related by blood or paper, it really doesn't matter. Verge did what he thought was right and I can't help but agree with him. He wanted to give you the one thing he knew he could, Nero. Think about it: killing is his specialty; you're here because you wanted someone dead-"

"I didn't want him dead."

"Then what was your plan? Age here and wait until he eventually died, not considering you might die before he does?" He was surprisingly calm as he fished out another tub. "You think it's bad to say something like that here, but given your current circumstance it's perfectly natural to want that. What I'm trying to say is that you were here on a mission and he wanted to fulfil that for you." Why Dante chose to tell him all of this went out of his character, and even more so he was making things difficult for Vergil to explain later on. "My brother isn't one for words; he wanted to show you that he cares about you without having to outright say it."

 _How did Vergil know?_

 _Did Dante tell him everything?_

 _What are they not telling me?_

 _Am I actually happy about this?_

 _Does it all really matter now?_

Nero finished his dessert and moved the glass container aside. "He won't stop calling himself a mass murderer. Why?"

"Because that's what he was." And so began the story that wasn't his to tell. "He wants me out."

Nero softened at seeing Dante switch to serious mode when talking of his brother, like he was the only being in existence that would defend him to the ends of the earth. His mode was nothing like Vergil's; it was more menacing and creepy to watch his face contort out of its signature warmth. "Did you ever think why you couldn't recognise Vergil and me as brothers? That when you saw him for the first time, the only thing connecting us was that we looked similar and nothing else? That you couldn't place him as your caregiver after all the time you've spent together? We are on different wavelengths; wavelengths that only become apparent once we are in the same room, and it was a disadvantage for you that it had to be this chamber – I am still alive; Vergil is dead as a doornail. I can continue a life on earth with a clear conscience and nothing to worry about, but that is not a luxury guaranteed for my brother." He moved his sundae to the end of the table and paid all of his attention in getting the words correct. "Telling you everything from Vergil's past is not my tale to tell, but yes, he did cause a fair bit of trouble for me in every way you can imagine; the real truth behind putting up with his antics is because living on the surface without him is not a reality I can live with. The main reason I took this job was to fix things between us, but he doesn't want me here – his instincts kick in like a caffeine drop and will do everything he can to get me back to operating on the surface. I won't admit to my secrets and he won't to his, so we will continue this unnecessarily stupid game for eons."

"But then why-"

He stopped; he didn't need to complete the thought. "Vergil can't let things go. The death of our mother was at the hand of a demon clan affiliated with the eradication of non-demonic entities that linked stronger demons to the human world. Vergil has come to realise that it is not his sin to burden alone, so he made it his life's mission to track them down and destroy them with the hope of burying his memories alongside them." The last sentence came accompanied with a fitting grin. "He doesn't know I know that; let's keep that between us."

They shared a brief nod. "Won't he just read my mind?"

"Vergil can't do that, but he is impeccably perceptive, so don't make things too obvious. It's really difficult to hide things from him, especially if he's used to you."

Nero couldn't agree more; he had experienced moments when Vergil made a better Nero than he did. It could have been the paternal instinct kicking in, but he enjoyed the suggestion made by Dante previously. "What happened to your all-powerful demon father?"

Nothing could have prepared him for the answer Dante provided. "Oh, Vergil killed him. When I say kill I mean slaughter, and when I say slaughter I mean eradicate off the face of existence."

He assumed it would be a painful topic to bring up, but the nonchalance in his voice made Nero choke on his ice cream; the poor human struggled to bring up the creamy sludge that went down his windpipe as Dante's stomached ached with giggles at his reaction. With one hard slap to the back, his windpipe was cleared; that was going to leave a mark. "You don't seem to be too beat up about it."

"He didn't do it for himself as he did it for me, thinking that he was a horrible example and that our father would have had a hand in me sealing my fate in another direction. They fought for three days non-stop; my father gave up at seeing how out of shape his eldest was, protecting our dignity as hybrids and solidifying our place in all of the realms. It was a quick death – Vergil was in tears by the end of it, unsatisfied in him choosing to be a father in the last few moments of his life." He looked at his inverted reflection on the silverware as he licked it clean. "It was a long time ago, but my heart breaks every time I remember the look he gave me when he pulled that bloody sword out of our father's chest."

The two companions sat in silence for a long time, eating their respective helpings quietly. Nero decided to keep the processing of all the information for another day; there were too many angles to consider trying to piece Vergil together as a whole and he was too complicated for those many angles to fit together perfectly – still, for Nero, he looked forward to finding all of the missing pieces, regardless of the time the task might take him.

"Does it bother you?"

Nero caught his stare on his arm, giving him an excuse to flex his claws and catch a good glimpse without feeling guilty. He had almost completely forgotten about it. "I don't know what you mean by bother, but it hasn't gotten me into trouble yet. It gets really itchy sometimes."

Dante moved from his spot to closely inspect the anomaly, taken aback by the sheer power radiating from it; the familiar scent of his father mixed with the potency of Nero's growing strength was hypnotising. "Do you know why this happened, Nero?" He looked over every inch of the skin, poking and prodding at the layers of armour and pricking himself on his blue claws, forgetting he had asked him a question. "Can I steal Vergil's thunder and explain it to you?"

A small nod and a scurry later, the massive brown leather volume found its way between the two - Dante was amazed at how much of a companion the book had become in such a short span of time, even if it was just two pages he looked at. "It's as simple as a blood transfusion." He turned to his favourite spread as Nero joined him at the other edge of the table; their matching arms immediately caught his attention and he stood in awe that something as simple as a blood sample was able to recreate it in such detail. "This is the all-powerful demon, Sparda – our father. Something to also note is that he was one of the best scientists of his day. He was sympathetic to the humans owing being married to one and he was especially concerned with the few that had their fate bound to this awful place; unknown to many, during his time here he did what he could to ensure they were well looked after, even after his death." He pointed to a paragraph in a language Nero couldn't recognise as English. "Sparda developed what we know today as a blood synthetic: an imitation of natural, human blood with the base foundation of demonic blood – a compound using separate authentic materials, whereby the minority of dormant blood cells receive an enhancement after being mixed with a pure substance. He used his own to conduct the experiments in secret, altering the very construction of blood cells to cater for any loss of life across all races. He had stored many of these synthetics for extreme cases, like yours. The blood running through your veins was a post-operation transfusion made up mainly of demonic-class synthetic material: the nurses who operated on you tried to further separate the bonds of the demonic influence but they had managed to extract just enough for very little obstruction to human life, meaning that your personality and who you are would not change if you were strong enough to handle it. Physically, the blood would change your appearance: with your arm being the prime example, the blood fused with your DNA to create a shield to prevent further injuries from occurring in that spot owing to it being considerably weaker than the rest of you. The same goes for your entire body and because you have no other open wounds it focused on strengthening you from the inside out – muscles, bones, tissue, that sort of thing." He heaved the book closed and set it to the side, opting for a bit of light reading for later. "The scars on your back should be completely healed as well, so your main priority would be to train yourself to use that… thing. What's better is that you can ask Vergil to train you; he has a knack for the 'supernatural'-"

"How do you know about those?"

"Much like Vergil, it's relatively impossible to hide anything from me. It's in my interest to know, not to question, unless I really need to." Dante walked over to the kitchen and squirted strawberry syrup onto his finger, rubbing it on the inside of his cheeks. "Don't judge me, it lasts longer this way."

Nero gestured with his hand for the syrup to be passed over, wanting to verify the genius displayed before him. "Will it be like this for me too? The sugar thing?"

Dante grabbed a strawberry and lathered it in syrup before passing over Nero's own portion. "As far as I recall, it should have already started-" and his new brainspark backfired in the best way possible: the concentrate hit him straight in his taste buds and contorted his face, making him vaguely recognisable. "Remind me to never do that again."

"Too sweet?"

He was still recovering from the unwelcome twang in his jaw. "The 'I'm-set-for-the-next-month' kind of sweet."

If they didn't look alike, the direct contrast between the two made it nearly impossible to deduce that they were brothers, let alone related; Dante carried himself as if he had not a care in the world, yet Vergil lumbered around with the remainder of the solar system on his shoulders. How they could be so in sync yet so peculiarly different boggled Nero to the maximum extent his brain would endeavour. But as Dante has previously stated, his brother's main downfall was that he refused to let go - how many years' worth of painful memories would he hoard before allowing himself to live a life for him and him alone?

He finished the last of his strawberries as more plain ice cream flowed from the freezer to Dante's mouth. "I have two more questions." Nero sat at his chair and cracked his knuckles out of habitual nervousness, nearly slicing his hand open on the hard skin encasing the back of his right hand. "Why Vergil?"

The exact same seriousness flooded his features once more. "The complicated answer is that I wanted him to have something good in his life – something he could look forward to, something to give him a reason to be happy. Vergil has been tormented by many things for far too long. I can't sit on the edge and watch him be unhappy; I don't think you've ever seen his face when he's generally miserable and sad, but I can tell you it would cut you deeper than that sword of his. He believed his soul had surpassed redemption, but you've given him that second chance at hope; he deserves more than he thinks and I wanted him to realise that. Through you." Dante allowed a smile to pass his lips; the more he saw how well they complimented each other, the more he felt proud of Vergil. Letting someone in stood directly underneath finding a black hole on the impossibility scale, given his previous attempts at the feat. Nero deserved all the credit as he was the only change in a sea of constants. "I knew you were a good kid the minute you walked through those gates, and although it was my job to send you back to Limbo so you could go the other way, I chose to be selfish."

Nero gritted his teeth, holding back the intense urge to lunge over the table and engulf him in the biggest hug. "And the simple answer is?"

Watching the sweetest grin stretch across Dante's face was something he never anticipated needing to see. "I wanted to see him smile again. He has an amazing smile."

And one miserable notion flowed through Nero's mind: he would never see it.

"Onto your final, free-from-emotion question."

"Oh." Nero pulled his Rubix cube out of his pocket; not too shabby but not complete either. "Could I possibly stay a bit longer? Your brother is one for the impossible."

They walked out of the kitchen and through the chamber for Nero to take his leave. Dante was at his prime spot, standing comfortably next to The Watcher as it blinked happily. The blinking acted as an alarm and the man in charge had to wait for the room to be completely empty before conversing with his trusty steed. He was in the middle of the room when Dante called, turning at the gruff sound his voice made. "Has he been good to you?"

The happy notion faded at the sudden question from Dante and the shine to Nero's eyes returned as he deliberated his answer. They were both aware of the level of stupidity to his enquiry but they both also knew the importance of the reply. "Yes; more than good."

He nodded and moved closer to him, fiddling with his hands – his tell that he knew something he wasn't meant to. "Does he know?"

Nero half-smiled. "He doesn't; I hope to tell him someday, when I know I can fight back or have my organs in a safe place other than my body."

A shared chuckle escaped the room with Nero and Dante made his way back to the blinking mass next to his throne, waiting for the huge bronze door to click into place. It was a slow walk, reflecting on his brother's progress in such a short time and sad that it had come to an end. He set his hands upon the artefact and the blinking subsided. "It's been thirty days, sire."

Dante looked glumly at nothing in particular. "Crazy how time flies when you don't have blood on your hands."

"I'm not too sure that's how the saying goes, your majesty." He gave the glowing bowling ball the stink eye as he continued on. "What are your orders for the link?"

Dante's hand sunk into the mass with little effort. "Break it, but don't make it too obvious; Nero will probably be with him by the time it disappears and I'd hate for him to sense something is up." Lifting his hand slightly, the glow weakened as his request was slowly being fulfilled. A few seconds passed; the miniature light slid through the bronze keyhole with ease, crossing the floor to its rightful owner – soaking into the bowling ball, it grew as its optimal vigour was reached and evaporated quickly through Dante's fingertips. The part of his soul that was embedded in his brother had come home, flexing his fingers and shaking off the burn left by the glass ball. "I want to see what Vergil will do knowing Nero is no longer an obligation to him."


	15. The moment they'd been waiting for

There was only one place Vergil would be.

Nero slowly navigated to the roof and detected a fuzzy mass of blue standing at its favoured corner; Vergil turned as the footsteps trekked closer, bringing with him a cool breeze that complimented their infernal home just fine. He stood with his hands folded behind his back and a frown watched the town from above; his attempt at stringing the right words together failed miserably and opted for his usual brooding mysteriousness to sway Nero from conversing with him. In the end the teen walked to him with more purpose and need, stopping some feet away to not break any boundaries he had set for himself. "If you don't mind-"

"We don't have to talk."

"I'm sure my brother has-"

"We don't have to, Vergil."

He needed to locate Vergil's exact position before standing on his tip toes behind him and running his hands down Vergil's arms; his hands were pulled apart as Nero laced his own through, a gesture so sweet and innocent that the demon couldn't help but soften at his actions. It was very seldom that he ever felt the urge to exhibit emotion, but he and the man behind him shared a connection so pure that it was now an everyday thing that he reserved only for the proudest of achievements. "What did he tell you?"

Nero took a giant leap and kissed the back of his hand, signalling a white flag before the conversation became more heated than it should. "He gave me the nutshell, said it's up to me whether I choose to crack it or not."

Strategic move or no, Vergil's hands gave away everything he was feeling and thinking without having him to say a word. Nero made it a mission to concentrate on those respective places whenever the demon became distant and quiet, and every time he was able to pick out what it was that bothered him whether he liked it or not. It was an effective communication tool for Nero, and Vergil wouldn't dare take it away from him; what he chose to reveal and what the other picked up were guesses most of the time. "There's something you're not telling me."

Nero had that melancholy-blank look to his eyes; scared to know but needing to find out. The slow reaction to his statement led him to believe that what he was missing out on was something best kept to Vergil, or so he thought. There was nothing he could do but stand still and wait for his roommate to make a move; he could feel the deep-etched frown on his face, happy that he was on the other side of the situation.

"How would you feel to have your eyesight back?"

The question seemingly came from nowhere and Nero took a good few steps back, almost hitting the pot plants behind him. "If there was a way for you to have your eyesight back, would you take it?"

Nero tried 'looking' around the roof for something else to focus on. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Will you answer the question?"

"In a heartbeat. Now why are you asking me this?"

He was used to the ailment, yet an itch at the back of his mind still held onto a remote inkling of hope to have his sight restored. Granted, it never really bothered him when he was still alive; after the crash and his mother's funeral, he made the decision to quit school to adjust to his blindness properly, figuring out the best ways to implement and use his other senses primarily for navigation in any surrounding. His father made no leeway to assist him at all, so he was very much alone in having to cope with the added stress that came with his loss. Many a day he would find himself spiralling into a crippling depression for the simple task of not being able to find matching socks after laundry day; he had attributed the few days after arriving home to be the absolute worst until he gave himself the chance to absorb things appropriately and life became easier with every passing day – Nero found himself working to his own personal rhythm, becoming accustomed to feeling his way around the house and catching himself smile on a regular basis. Five hundred and forty seven days later, the person in charge of his care ended his life in the most brutal way possible. There was one perk to it in the end: with the loss of sight came the inability to never witness anything painful ever again; he could only imagine what a sorry sight he must have been to the outside world, and the overwhelmed relief in not seeing pity and empathy in the faces of humanity brought little comfort to his dark, morbid world. Little, but it was still something.

All the memories of his previous life flooded back to him in the split second it took Vergil to turn around and face him, making the mistake of assuming he'd be happier at the response that was to come. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and attempted to look stern but forgetting that Nero couldn't see him. Yet. "I can try and give it back to you. If that's what you want."

The composed manner in which he addressed Nero about the situation screamed at him, telling him how stupid he was being for worrying. Vergil wouldn't dare do anything to put him within a mile of a hint of danger. "What are you talking about-"

The man in blue took a few steps forward, and watched his companion's eyes widen in curiosity as it blankly stared at his chest. "As much as it would fall under the category of surprise, I think something like this is best given under your discretion-"

"It's not possible, Vergil." Nero hoped above anything this wasn't some cruel joke; he was aware of the flurry of potentials that existed in the new realm but whatever brewed inside his brilliant mind was madness of the purest kind.

Vergil drew the teen in with his solemn voice, knowing what it would do to both of them if his attempt didn't work, but nothing was going to stop the determined soul. "It's worth a try; consider it testing a farfetched theory."

Nero took a deep breath and let it out slow – this was too much. He wasn't one to get his hopes up, and the topic of discussion put a damper on his mood since arriving home from Dante. He was scared and distressed to put it lightly, and his glowing arm wasn't shy in showing it. "Is it gonna be painful?"

"Is kissing me painful?"

Vergil's bluntness managed to melt the mounting hostility; a vibrant pink glow worked its way across Nero's pale face as he timidly scratched the back of his neck hiding his puffy cheeks. "You can drink from a cut in my wrist if you prefer, but I don't want you to have too much just in case my theory actually works and it ends up disfiguring you beyond recognition," rapidly adding "owing to potency, nothing else," for his own safety. "If I end up being on the delusional side of the stick we carry on as normal and forget this ever happened."

Nero would need a good few blows to the head to forget this.

The second option was given out of courtesy; they both knew there was no way Nero would choose the latter, but the sudden pressure of having to do it out of obligation hung heavy between the pair – he stepped forward into Vergil's line of sight and put his hands on his neck with deep breaths to calm his racing mind. The demon decided against his animal instinct to pull him close, keeping his hands sturdy inside his pockets; the opposite could be said for Nero, obeying his passionate nature and unexpectedly going in for the kill. As much as he wanted to get it over and done with, he lived in the moment of total darkness one last time, utilising the help of his other senses to draw a picture of the scene in front of him; in not seeing, Nero saw beyond the mask Vergil fought so desperate to maintain and saw him for what he really was – a man with a distorted view of reality who sought out calculated death and destruction for the timely preservation of his own psyche. The method to his madness unknowingly reeled him in, knowing it would pose more of a threat to escape his web. Vergil transformed his right hand and nicked the corner of his mouth with a deadly sharp claw, drawing enough blood to test out his theory. "You need to do it quickly or the wound will-"

This was not something you could ask twice: Vergil was able to shift quickly, pushing the corner of his mouth between Nero's lips. The teen licked and sucked at the wound as the demon felt the hole close up almost immediately – with the technicalities out of the way, Nero leaned in for the proper kiss; the one he secretly knew Vergil was after. He moved in closer, basking in the obscene warmth radiating from the massive build in front of him. The nerves that knotted inside his stomach melted at the teen's touch and he allowed himself the delight he never knew he needed; without a moment's hesitation, Vergil's hands spread across his neck and rested under his jaw, softly cupping Nero's face and treasured the feel of the plump flesh on his own; Vergil missed the immediate reaction to his advances as it was something he craved after their first kiss. Growing together they had developed their own rhythm that no one else could dare match, and it was the manner in which the teen gave himself over to his urges and thirst that spurred him on, edging him relatively close to his own sensory loss. The younger melted into his frame as Vergil grew impatient and deepened the kiss, opening his mouth and running his tongue the engorged skin of his lips before diving in and claiming what was rightfully his.

Satisfied with the intensity that the kiss reached, his strong hands snaked on the small of Nero's back, digging his fingertips into his skin and dragging them along the contours of his slim body, his touch making Nero's eyes roll to the back of his skull. He could feel his knees weaken at Vergil's response and so very thankful of the support he offered around his back. Their tongues waged war inside their mouths – depraved, hungry, yearning, lust. The deep-rooted desire was evident in Vergil's advances as he clung to the teen with a heightened degree of need, becoming less and less of the Vergil he knew and revealing more of the Vergil he himself so desperately concealed from view. Nero lingered on the precipice of his own sanity, watching how easy he had lost himself in his actions. He regretfully pulled away from Vergil, wanting the kiss to last forever but knowing that his lucidity was something he had wished to hold onto a little bit longer. He opened his eyes and he saw the look of concern on Vergil's face, wondering what it was that he did wrong.

And it hit Nero like a truck.

His vision was hazy at first, heavy with longing from the earlier attack on his senses. There wasn't enough time to take in his surroundings when Vergil suddenly pulled his face in his direction and looked deep into his eyes. "Did it work?"

Counting as only the second time Nero had ever seen him, he marvelled at how strikingly similar yet so utterly different he appeared in comparison to Dante. He reached out and touched Vergil's irrevocably handsome face; his snow-white hair fell to his jaw as it gently swayed with the miniscule breeze; a smirk leisurely took shape on his desirable lips as the younger traced every outline of his face – nooks and crannies alike – as if the demon was something out of a fairy tale. Nero got lost in his crystal blue eyes, wanting to stare into them for forever and a day. He became instantly overwhelmed by Vergil, and he couldn't stop the tears from welling even if he wanted. "You're certain?"

"It's been the darkest, longest three years of my life. I know the difference." For the quenching of his curiosity, Nero moved away from close quarters and roamed the rooftop, taking everything in. "How did you know your blood would work?"

Immobile, Vergil kept his eyes in front of him. "I didn't, but of all the properties contained within demon blood as a whole, it's meant to fix everything, disability included." He scratched at his silver locks, pulling at clumps to find the correct terminology; speaking was Dante's field of expertise. "If you presented demon blood to someone wheelchair-bound, they possess the ability to walk once more as a part of the blood starting fresh in a new host. Disability meant weakness, and weakness is something to avoid at all costs in any of the realms below us. What confused me was that your eyesight remained the same; the internal effects usually take less than a day, while it allows the external to work longer owing to the construction and readjustment of the DNA."

Nero was in his own world, pretending to listen and make sense of what left Vergil's mouth. "Your synthetic was significantly more human than demon, but demon nonetheless, not even counting in the fact that it belonged to my father. The hospital gave you just enough for sustenance; you needed a boost of purer blood to conclude the transformation, which was the tiny drop you received not too long ago. And because it came from the same bloodline, some of it was absorbed quicker by simple skin contact and moved directly into your blood stream. You may later find that you're going to see so much more than what you are now." He turned his head at an angle and looked at Nero leaning against the railing who was watching him from behind; he perked up as Vergil's icy blues found his, his cheeks flushing at the intensity of the eye contact. "I feel like I also need to inform you that your hair is different. There was no point in telling you before this."

For the first time, Nero was able to see the full expanse and bustle of Hell below him; the fire and brimstone in the distance didn't take much from the view of the town filled with crowds of people, yet he felt time was wasted every moment he chose to look away from the demon – much like Vergil himself, his current world consisted of three people, knowing little else. His time would come when he would venture out and begin his quest for ultimate revenge on his father, but that was well in the future. For now he was going to enjoy what was left of his teen years under Vergil's care; he had something to look forward to every day.

"Would you please say something?"

Nero hadn't heard the inkling of a footstep as his deep voice sounded from behind him. "How did you do that?"

He hadn't successfully snuck up on Nero during their entre stay. "Oh, I can teleport."

"You can what? Since when?" He turned around to face Vergil, noting the unjust yet welcomed space between them.

The demon squared his jaw, lightly grazing the topmost hairs of Nero's fringe. "I've always been able to do it. It would have been unfair to do it earlier – that kind of advantage gets boring after a while."

The forgotten presence – Nero's arm – began burning brightly as he placed it against Vergil's chest. The concentrated, raw power emanating from it was enough to make Vergil take a few steps back; if Nero harboured Sparda's blood, it was only natural for it to react the way it did, with him being the only person strong enough to have murdered its master. The only attribute to its newfound behaviour was him regaining his sense of sight; he looked at his arm in dismay as the glow died with every step he took, admiring and mentally scolding the appendage. How was he going to get close to Vergil? "What's going on?"

"It's reacting to demonic power: the brighter it glows determines the size and proximity of the threat." Vergil crossed his arms at his back. "It'll get better with conditioning, but that's something I can't help you with."

It regained its non-glowing stature. "It didn't do this with Dante."

"He's the king of Hell; working behind the veil is a perk in these circumstances."

Nero walked closer to him and his arm reacted violently once more; he slapped at the armour and his hand tinged in pain. "And just so you know, you're not a threat."

"Not yet," and he smiled.

Dante was right: Nero had never seen a more precious smile in his life.


	16. Epilogue: There was never an allergy

_The letter Dante received in the mail made no sense to him, yet the handwriting was unmistakable: the eloquence of the script, the curling edges on the baby letters, the undeniable shake of cold and malnutrition in the down strokes – after the many years that passed since they were driven apart, he had been waiting for the day he would receive word from his brother. Vergil maintained a keen eye on him and his impressive progress in mingling into society; he was more than fine watching his younger brother smile into oblivion from the side lines._

 _Venturing to the exact place Vergil said he would be, Dante walked with renewed purpose to see him after so long; the demon in front of him, however, was not the brother he had grown up with: his posture slumped over, his hair had grown below Dante's favoured length and covered every single one of his features, and his fragile, undernourished frame shivered under the expanse of his signature blue coat that seemed to have seen more better days than its owner. All that was left was the empty shell that stood at a distance; the only reason Dante was certain lied in the faintly glowing necklace around his neck – he usually kept the piece in his left breast pocket owing to the power it needed to maintain its glow, and even now he was far away from being strong enough to have it showing in broad daylight. He crossed the dying street and stopped within an inch of his brother._

 _Not a single word moved between the pair; after practicing his smile in the mirror for hours before meeting him, the atmosphere was anything but jovial. Vergil kept his head down as he took off the necklace and tucked it safely into his coat, turned on his heel and stalked into the small opening behind him, hiding out of view of the general public. A confused Dante followed, lumbering around the provisions he had brought for the journey. "I told you not to come."_

 _"Then why were you waiting?"_

 _"Because I know you better than anyone else."_

 _"Then you should know better not to include that next time."_

 _Using a fragile hand, Vergil moved a clump of hair out of his face; the paleness extended to the top of his head where Dante was greeted by a pair of icy blue eyes that had long lost their usual spark and scarily sharp features that once accompanied his handsomeness now turned him into something of a nightmare on Elm Street. His sunken cheeks, however, were not deterred by the smirk that was long overdue. "Touché."_

 _The twins walked side by side down the abandoned alleyway in the dead of night, sporting what few possessions they had with them on their journey. Dante and his two humungous duffel bags were carried between them, while the clothes on Vergil's back were the only things he considered worth the effort carrying with him. The older brother took ownership over one of them - owing to Vergil's weakened state from a poor diet and low blood sugar, he instinctively put Dante in charge of handling any threats that came their way._

 _"Are you planning to tell me what happened to you?"_

 _"Nothing happened to me, Dante. Absolutely nothing." He kept on walking ahead, looking forward and walking lopsided because of the bag's weight. "Do you see scars? Do you see blood? Do you see me limping and wincing when I walk? Am I short of breath? Do I have difficulty breathing?" The brother following watched in disbelief as he trekked like nothing was wrong. "My heart beats, does it not? I'm fine – read my mind if you have to."_

 _They were quickly losing their patience with one another. "Drop the damn act-"_

 _"Dante, I'm weak; that's all there is to it." Vergil finally faced his brother, and the stark contrast between them would have broken their mother's heart. "I can't die, so all I do is suffer. This is me suffering."_

 _This was why it had taken him so long to get in touch with his brother. There was only so much outside influence he could handle before he eventually swallowed his pride and have Dante come face to face with the weakest state he had ever been in; he was out of shape mentally, physically, emotionally – what drove him to write the letter in the first place was a mix of arrogance and self-hatred, thinking himself selfish for drawing Dante out of his cosy home and throwing the luxury to the fishes in joining him on a quest that possibly lead to nowhere. It was always Vergil with the impossible crusades, dragging his sibling with him and dreaming of a destination flourished in guts and glory on a wide open fire. Vergil felt stupidly vulnerable but he didn't care._

 _"Vergil-"_

 _"I'm already embarrassed that my little brother has to see me like this, so don't make it worse by patronising me." The hair he had earlier pushed behind his ears fell forward to conceal whatever his face would give away. "Please don't."_

 _Neither of them moved a muscle on his plea; it was one thing for Vergil to fall victim to his emotions, it was another to tease him with them. The pinch of worry Dante formed in the pit of his stomach grew with each passing second they stood in silence – Vergil's shoulders heaved with every breath he took, his head firmly fixed on the grimy tarred floor and his brown leather boots. The red-clad demon took no chances; dropping his bag, he took a few steps and invaded his brother's personal bubble, wrapping his arms around what was left of him and squeezed tightly. Alarm bells rang in his head as he felt his brother's entire spine and ribcage protruding from underneath the thick material of his coat, and he doubted the clothes he wore provided much bodily warmth. He was colder than Dante had remembered; not a good sign for the demon lying dormant within him. How long had it been since it stretched its legs? Wielded a weapon? Did Vergil know he was still there?_

 _Like a true younger brother, Dante suppressed all of his concern to the deepest recesses of his subconscious and concentrated on bringing some warmth from the inside out as he nuzzled into the crook of his big brother's neck, happy that he managed to hold firm on his height. Luckily for him, Dante had his arms pinned to his sides so there was no pressure in him returning the action. "I'm only little for three minutes."_

 _Their shoulders relaxed in a synchronised fashion. "If it were the other way around you'd milk it like a cow."_

 _He pulled away and held onto Vergil's broad, bony shoulders. "Touché." At a distance, the mischievous twin had a good look at him, twisting and turning his mouth at peculiar angles until he finally bent and grabbed something from the bag his brother was holding. Dante expertly gathered the unruly bunch of straight, silver locks and pushed them back until his face was in full view. "Now if you don't mind, I have to do something about this hair of yours…"_

 _The two demons sat on the roof of an abandoned building with Dante swinging his legs freely over the edge and Vergil sitting composed with one leg underneath him. Dante chomped on the takeaway pizza he bought along the way while Vergil barely touched the fettuccini Alfredo ordered alongside it. "You need to eat, Verge."_

 _Given his current situation, the foil container filled to the brim in creamy, mushroomy, bacony goodness could last him a month. "I will."_

 _"When was the last time you ate anything?"_

 _Vergil took the box and held it in his lap, playing with the misted plastic cover. "I'd tell you if I could remember-" and a giggle from next to him broke his thought. "What's so funny?"_

 _Dante chewed his recent bite and swallowed with as much grace as his own dance moves as he pointed to the sleek ponytail that he had constructed moments earlier. "It looks really good on you – you should do it more often. It's kinda boring if we have the same hairstyle, plus you're more handsome and having it back accentuates your features."_

 _He went back to eating his dinner like nothing happened with Vergil's eyebrow questioningly raised. "For the sake of my own sanity and the fact that you just used 'accentuate' correctly, I won't comment."_

 _He was back._

 _"Oh, I almost forgot." Dante rummaged through his belongings, unfolding numerous pieces of clothing until he found it. "You owe me one."_

 _Vergil took the Rubix cube from him; it was definitely completed a while ago and not touched since. "How long has this been like this?"_

 _"Years – I'd screw myself over if I touched it after that." Dante leaned in closer and wiggled his eyebrows at his twin. "But it's done."_

 _Ah yes, the unspoken rule. "Fine. What is it that you want?"_

 _He took it and stuffed back from where he dug it out. "I'll keep this one for later, when I need it." Having one in his back pocket was always an advantage, and what made it better was that Vergil was bound by obligation to fulfil whatever he so desired. The idea alone made him relax back on his arms and watch the sky as it twinkled and the rest of the city fell into a deep sleep. The quiet of the night was interrupted by Vergil reaching into his coat pocket and removing a small, lumpy blue packet filled with who knew what; no brand to give it away and no product name plastered over the packet. "What's that?"_

 _He had already opened it in the most skilful way, not spilling any contents of the clearly stuffed piece of plastic. "Peanuts. Would you like some?"_

 _Dante shook his head, politely declining his brother's offer and stuffed his face with the crust of his latest culinary victim. "I don't know how you could eat that stuff."_

 _"When you have nothing, something as small as this brings immeasurable comfort." He threw a few into his hand and they made clean entry into his mouth. "There are vitamins and proteins in here, calories too. Reduced risk of cardiovascular disease, should that ever happen to me."_

 _Was that really all he had been eating this entire time? "That's not food, Verge."_

 _"They aren't classified under that category, yes, but these sustained me for long periods of time."_

 _Vergil crunched on with the pasta balancing on his lap._

 _He resented everything associated with those things ever since._

"Are you okay?"

Nero made the reckless mistake in being too curious for his own good, wanting to try out the teleportation for himself. Nero's arm pulsated lightly against Vergil's chest as he deftly asked him to hold on tight; the demon stared into the distance as his arms wrapped around his body, pulling him as close as possible – the smaller the space taken, the better the chances of them arriving to their destination intact. Nero was in his own world, loving how close they were and having a full view of Vergil's incredible jawline. "Even if your body is telling you to do it, please don't let go."

Nero laid his jaw on his chest and stared upward, waiting for the demon to look at him. "Of all the warnings you could give me-"

"I'm serious, Nero." He turned his gaze downward with a severe look on his face. "You need to hold on like your life depends on it."

The graveness of the situation flew over his head; it wasn't a new experience for Nero – being this close to Vergil – but it was another circumstance entirely when he was able to see how amazing it was to be this close: his cold human hand held tightly on his scorching demonic one, clasping into place for good measure. The sheer juxtaposition in temperature on Vergil's bare back caused a flinch and the manliest squeak Nero ever heard. "Better?"

The bigger man tilted his head to the side as a trained smoulder was aimed in Nero's direction. "You're treading on dangerous waters here, Nero."

The next split second was nothing but elation and nausea as they appeared in his bedroom, landing with a small thud on the Persian carpet. The mood from seconds ago vanished into thin air when Nero collapsed on all fours at Vergil's feat, heaving in as much air as his lungs could muster in one go; he picked him up by his arm and sat him on the bed, pushing his head between his legs to regulate his breathing. "At least you didn't let go-"

"I'm begging you not to speak right now."

Vergil tentatively began rubbing his back. "It gets easier overtime-"

He shot up straight with his infamous suspicious expression. "We're gonna do this again?" Nero's movements were too quick and he moved back to his previous position and started from scratch, dreading having to relive the disorientation.

His roommate tried his best at hiding his amusement. "After today, many many times."

Vergil's hand never left his back, even when he sat up straight claiming he had felt better. "Oh, I have something for you." Nero delved into his pocket and brought out the completed Rubix cube. "I did it back at Dante's; I needed to see what was going on, but it's finally finished."

The demon inspected the cube as he plonked himself further on his bed. "Well done; what would you like?" He looked straight at Nero and jumbled it once again, flicking his fingers at lightning speed and taking the puzzle to a whole new level of confusion.

He could only watch as his hard work faded to ash. "What do you mean?"

Vergil set the cube on his dresser, making himself comfortable in stretching his lean body on the surface area of his bed. "Dante and I used to play with these all the time; we had an unspoken rule where we'd fight to complete each of our cubes at our own pace, and when we presented the finished cube, the other twin had a favour against the other. Like a reward system for finishing it."

"So if Dante came to you with a finished cube-"

"I owed him one: whatever he wanted, it was my responsibility to give it to him."

"So…. You technically owe me one? I can have whatever I want?"

Vergil manoeuvred his muscled arms to settle under his head. "Your wish is my command, Nero."

He stared up at the ceiling with a blank face, uttering the words that he knew would later get him into a lot of trouble; he didn't bother putting himself in the shoes of the human either, so his chances were slim in trying to venture a guess as well. As Vergil's head drifted a million miles away, he barely noticed Nero moving to the end of the bed and wrenching his legs open, spreading himself over his body. "And I can cash it in whenever I want?"

Utterly bewildered, his eyes lidded from the delicious friction brought on by Nero's brashness. "Absolutely."

Straightforward wasn't Nero's strong suit – what was he up to? Nero gave him no time to think as he snaked further up his body and straddled the demon, spreading his legs on either side of Vergil's hips to get comfortable and slowly taking off his hoodie. Throwing it to the floor, he speedily attacked the crook of the demon's neck in the best way – tongue first: using human strength he gripped a tuft of silver hair and strained Vergil's head in the opposite direction for a bigger area to chastise. He decided to play along for the meantime, running his hands down the back of Nero's thighs, until he realised he had taken it a bit too far as his blood nestled comfortably between his legs. The demon squared his jaw and thrust his tongue in his cheek upon hearing footsteps to his door. "Can you never do anything normally?"

"How else do you know me?" Vergil snapped his head to its proper angle as he watched Nero disappear, clutching the sealed bar of peanut brittle in his hands.

He took as quick as he could, regretting having left so suddenly after the window of opportunity stood as wide as the gap in Vergil's legs. Nero assumed he would do it just for fun in case he rained all levels of Hell on him for attempting such a feat, but every instinct in his body calmed as he felt the same verve rushing through his roommate's body; he used his advantage of mastering his other senses to note the subtle changes in Vergil's body in the duration of his attack, concluding that maybe leaving for the sake of a midnight snack wasn't exactly the best idea - even if his plan was to just test the waters, his face dropped at the impression he left by simply upping off and walking out.

But Nero needn't worry too much – he stuffed the bar into his bottom drawer and ruffled his hair in the mirror, smirking slightly at his dilated pupils and contemplating if what he was about to do was worth the exchange of a few of his internal organs. He took a deep breath and began step one, with step two plucking up the courage to leave his room in the state he was in and leading up to step three, totally dependent on his companion sleeping in the room next to his.

Vergil couldn't be mad; it was genius, but he was exhausted. He turned off his bedroom light and forced himself to undress and snake under the covers, hiding his amulet in his bedside drawer and locking in the warmth radiating from his body. Not a moment too soon, he patiently surveyed his bedroom door open and a frame that could only be Nero sneaking to the side of the bed. He climbed in, fully aware that Vergil was awake and currently in 'sleep state' – his code word for completely naked. Wasting no time, he took charge of the moment and resumed his position of straddling Vergil under the covers, and it took him a few seconds to realise that Nero, too, sported the same 'sleep state'.

In that instant, Vergil became scared of the remaining time they had left together.

In that instant, Nero became elated at spending the rest of his life by his side.

In that instant,their respective worlds melted into one.

Nero leaned forward and ghosted his lips on Vergil's, both already plump with desire. "I wanna cash in."


End file.
